


Phosphorus

by Silvyavan



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol is bad kids, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient Artifact theft, Arguing with Gods, Asthma, Breaking and Entering, Demonic(?) Possession, Deviates From Canon, Drama within the Decepticon ranks, Emotional Baggage, Hallucinations, Illegal Shenanigans, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jamie just can't take the hint, Megatron is tired of this shit, Mikaela gets shit done, Mild Gore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plotting - Freeform, Reincarnation, Sarcasm, Scheming, Self Confidence Issues, Starscream being Starscream, Theft, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, so many regrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvyavan/pseuds/Silvyavan
Summary: One person amongst the general population of 6 billion does little more than help move the gears of progress. Unless that one person is the younger asthmatic descendant of one alcoholic wizard. Meet Jamie, or Teresa, as he tries to (badly) save himself from death with the most half assed plan in the world. But something sinister rots beneath the surface. Rated for obvious reasons.





	1. Jamie exists

**Author's Note:**

> Compared to the other fics I'd say this one is pretty original.

Rebirth was not  **fun**. Teresa had to learn this the hard way. After graduating by the skin of her teeth, Teresa had paired up with her friend to stick together and be roommates. It also gave her a reality check - no job offers, working your life away only to realize there really isn't much you can do without having drawbacks was how most of her classmates had ended up. She entered the same school, got the same level of education and would probably live her job like the rest of them. Nothing more than another brick in the wall.

Dying in a fire wasn't how she expected to kick the bucket. A microwave dinner left on a frying pan, forgotten by her roommate, had caught on fire and spread. She had noticed a bit too late and ended up inhaling fumes and smoke. The entire building was evacuated and the fire department was called. They managed to get her out of the building a bit too late. Death by asphyxiation was a nightmare to say the least. Constant wheezing and coughing was painful and messed with her senses. The state of being powerless to change the situation was terrifying.

Passing out and then waking up and not seeing anything was just as scary. A solid six months had passed before they managed to open their eyes. The result was... _debatable_.

Realization struck. Maybe Teresa could live the life she never had again, this time as someone else.

* * *

It had been a few years since Teresa, now James, was born. James Witwicky, really felt like the world was screwing him over. The gender change didn't really bother her,him, whatever. " _Teresa_ " will just act like " _Jamie_ " for the time being.

None the less, he found it absolutely ridiculous that he managed to be reborn as Sam Witwicky's younger brother. It took him a solid two years to remember why his brother looked odly familiar and why the word Witwicky seemed too strange. " _Teresa_ " had not just been  _reborn_ , bit reborn into a  ** _franchise about alien robots who butchered Teresa's entire understanding of history._  **The only reason why he even knows of this was because nothing else was in theaters and their roommate, who had become a die hard fan of the movie series, who demanded that they see every single one of them, no matter how horrible the first two sequels were.

He tried to stay as normal as possible, but Judy and Ron knew something was wrong by the quiet nights interrupted only by meek whimpering.

Sam was six and he really didn't know what all the confusion was about. He really didn't know what was wrong. That had changed when Jamie's first word was "Thammy".

Little did he know, impending doom would be looming over his seventeenth year. Jamie couldn't tell if the idea of getting a car struck Sam during early fall, when the weather was still warm, or during May, when the seasons started to drastically change from spring to summer. From Jamie's memories, Sam had bought his alien-in-disguise Camaro during somewhere around that time, but the gap was three months.

It could have been in May since it was most likely going to be Sam's first or second year in high school. Exams technically weren't supposed to be a problem during those years. Sam would be doing a genealogy project, which probably meant that it was one of the assignments that teachers gave to raise the student's grade.

So during May, Sam would probably want a car but it seemed unnecessary during the end of the year. Sam's reasoning for getting a car was to impress Michaela, who was currently his classmate and friend. Well, friend seemed far fetched - they sat in the same room and that was as far as it went.

Well, James would just have to change that.

For now, he could enjoy his new life properly.

"Jamie! Don't touch the stove!"

"Maa- mac an cheeze!"

"Judy I think he wants more."

"Hey, how come he gets seconds?"

"We all can have seconds."

* * *

He's six now and he was beginning to think that everything was a lot harder than it used to be. He managed to talk Sam into befriending Mikaela over a gruesome three hours of whining, petty arguing and a trade. The results were more or less good. Mikaela had thought he was funny and interesting when he tried to do a backflip off the teachers desk and eventually they started to get to know each other.

That was during break and Jamie had managed to sneak out of his classroom to see how it went. Not as he planned, but a success nonetheless. It was the last lesson of the day. Physical education.

The gym was spacious but too much. Just enough for a small basketball field. The high ceilings were probably the reason why it felt so... _uncomfortable_.

Then it happened. James was a child, yes. But Teresa was impulsive and stubborn. So when the teacher asked how much they could run, James took it as a challenge. After running a few dozen laps, he started coughing and wheezing. Pain rippled through his lungs as he tried to breathe properly. It was like there was something stuck in his respiratory tract. The teacher took notice immediately and stopped the exercise. James passed out.

* * *

It was dark when James woke up. Not as if it were night time because it was dark beyond all points. He couldn't see or move. He couldn't even feel his limbs. So he panicked.

"What the fuck-  _shit_. Where am I?"

 **" Calm yourself, youngling. Your body is asleep. You are not in harms way**." A voice answered. It was deep yet oddly soothing.

As much as Jamie wanted to deliver a one liner, sassing someone or something inside your head is not the best idea. Two heads were better than one.

"...Who are you?"

**"I am the being that br-"**

_**" What are you doing here?!**_ " A shrill voice yelled. There was silence.

" **Hello**." Something told Jamie that the deep voice was not who he was supposed to have an appointment with.

_**"You better have a good reason for being here of all places."** _

**" I could say the same for you. You supposedly left this race alone centuries ago."**  History was not Teresa's best subject but hopefully they aren't talking about the world wars. That was an absolute  _nightmare_  to learn.

**_"I chose this one to clean up the mess you started. You know, the one you started before this world had even known of your Cybertronians and the one you're unable to clean up."_ **

**"He was brought here by chance. And by what means do you have the right to meddle in my business?"**

_**" That's not important at the moment. I brought her here to minimize the death count. You, too, wish to change the outcome of this war."** _

**"Your kind has left the humanity and whatever trases left have diminished. You have no reason to try and save what's left of the Cybertronians."**  Voice number one seemed to dislike voice's number two answer. They seemed to know each other. Not in a good way though.

 ** _"I am not letting_**  Quintessa  ** _get her way."_  **The second voice spat out. Words filled with venom was all that seemed to come out of them ** _." It was your fault for letting her off her leash, so if I can't take my anger out on you, I might as well take it out on her. Whether physically or mentally or however. You know this as well,"_**

 ** _"Primus..."_  **Unease began to form in Jamie's mind. If he was in the middle of a raging fight between a techno - organic god and someone of the same if not higher rank, he'd better find a way to leave. Immediately.

_**"Anyway, you, child. Or rather adult in child form."** _

"By all means, the reason why I can be called an adult is not being a minor. Besides that, calling me an adult is not exactly accurate. But go on. "

_**"You have choices - change the future events so that there would be a minimal amount of casualties on your own, do nothing or,"** _

**"We're out of time."**

_**"What-"** _

* * *

Waking up in the hospital to Judy's frantic panicking was something Jamie nor Teresa had experienced before .

Sam was back home with Ron while Judy was watching over Jamie. He had been unconscious for a large part of the day. After passing out, the teacher had called an ambulance and he was sent straight to ER. A call and a frantic drive to the school then to the hospital later, his parents managed to arrive.

Now he was sitting in a chair, waiting for x-ray scans to show what exactly was wrong with him. The doctor came out of the room.

"Miss Witwicky?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to speak with you both."

And now he has to walk. They reached the doctors office and Judy took a seat. Jamie decided to prop himself up on the bed across the table.

"Jamie, have you ever had any problems sleeping?"

"Mhm"

"Shortness of breath?"

"Sometimes after running up the stairs."

" , does he have any allergies? Like pollen or fume related ones?"

"No. We have a garden and it doesn't seem to affect him. We don't know about fumes but since we live in the suburbs." His mother was worried, Jamie could tell.

"I see. Comparing to what the teacher told us and what we managed to uncover, Jamie has exercise - induced asthma. It's not allergie induced but we don't know whether or not fumes cause the same problems. "

"Asthma?!" Asthma. Jamie felt suspicious. Asthma was related to lung problems and as far as he knew, nobody in his family had that. Sam was lanky but he had a strong immune system. So did his parents. Then it hit him.

He died in a fire. From inhaling fumes. And now it's back to haunt him. But why exercise induced? It would gave made more sense if it was allergy related.

* * *

Asthma was...exhausting. The doctor had given Jamie instructions for the inhaler he got (it wasn't cheap, but he didn't need to change them every two months or so- just the canister) and a doctors note to excuse him from gym. He was told about the difference between rescue inhalers and maintenance inhalers. He had a maintenance one and was supposed to use it before breakfast, bed, furing asthma attacks and, if necessary, physical activity. He has to carry it around at all times and never lose it. That much he could bear.

The side effects, on the other hand, were the bane of it all. Sometimes he wished he didn't have to use the medicine before bed because he couldn't fall asleep afterwards for hours. At times if he ate too fast or wasn't patient enough for the medicine to reach his lungs, he would throw up the breakfast right after eating it. Headaches are the only thing he's used to.

His brother hadn't understood the concept of asthma or why he had a "little red boot" with him at first but after several talks with Judy and Ron, he began to worry if the medicine was even helping Jamie or making everything worse.

It had been two years since that and Jamie has been... _thinking_. He never heard from the voices for the past two years. They said he was brought here. For a reason. The question he kept asking wasn't why, but what if. Was he reborn with the help of a god or was this a normal occurrence? But if he was born from the will of, let's say Primus, then why him? He had knowledge of future events but that knowledge was limited to the movies. The whole franchise stemmed from comics to television shows. There were probably other people more suitable for the job, right? Could he have died at the wrong time and was now forced to live like this? All just to fix everything? Had it been like that, then this wasn't even a second chance. He was already dead and if not for so many mistakes, he would've stayed that way. Unable to move, speak, think and feel.

And the purpose of it. To minimize the death count? To fix everything? Were they hearing themselves?! He was going to shoved in a war, one in which he has little to no influence or power. If his calculations were correct, then by the time the Autobots get to Earth, he'd only be fourteen. They would have a fourteen year old child change the course of an intergalactic war? We're they crazy?! What is he supposed to do? What can he do?! Keep Sam's glasses with him at all times so that they could give it to the Autobots quicker? There was no guarantee that he wouldn't be kidnapped by Barricade before that happens. Destroy Sam's phone in disguise before it could break Megatron out of his frozen prison? How exactly? They were made of alien metal. Even if he could melt it down, he didn't think he'd find a place where he could do it quickly enough before suspicion arises. He didn't have any powers, nor anything he could use. He'd be getting in the way with his sickly body.

And what if, no- when he fails? He was brought here, from death, for a singular purpose. If he couldn't do that, then he'd probably be shot by lighting or killed in an accident orchestrated by the same god who brought him back.

A god should have chosen someone suitable for the job, not someone who was bound to fail. He couldn't do it alone.

He wished he could just run out of the house to the nearest abandoned building and take his frustrations out there, like he did when he was Teresa. Like he did when he was free from responsibility and had a decent coping mechanism. Like drinking spiked grape juice.

But he can't. He's not Teresa the job hunter with all the time in the world. He couldn't go outside and take his frustration out on the world. He couldn't even vent to anyone. He was Jamie Witwicky, child sick with asthma and nothing else.

He was nothing else. He had nothing else. All he had was a straight line leading to a nightmare.


	2. Semi-possession and bars

Jamie is fourteen and waiting. It's April the fourteenth and either Sam is going to want his car within the next two or three weeks or in four months. The time gap is great but it'll save him some time if it's the former.

Over the years he's done a series of questionable things. Getting depressed over the fact that your life is going to end with no trial left him rather empty. There's no point in fearing death if it's going to happen anyway, right? So just make the most of it if you can. He's pretty sure he nearly beat Trent to the point of begging with a foldable chair at some point but that wasn't the worst thing that he did. He's also probably stolen a car and bought him and Sam fast food at an ungodly hour.

There was also his alcohol problem. Back when he was still Teresa, he had been to so many parties. Even back then, he wondered if red wine and watered down vodka could fill the void in his soul. Well, Teresa at least had restraint when it came to the well being of her body. Jamie just... doesn't. He can't really find a reason as to why he stopped caring. Except the aftertaste, but that didn't count. Wine candies were a favorite.

Could it have been his own mind telling him it didn't matter?  _Maybe_. He's been trying to slip things like wine or champagne into his mouth at gatherings by simply faking innocence, sometimes he gets brave when his parents aren't at home. He doesn't take much- just so they wouldn't notice. And if he felt sick, he could always blame it on the medicine.

But the thing that he really couldn't understand was the January pass outs. During that month he had always passed out once or two during the day. Every year it happened after his first asthma incident. Physical exams showed no difference in health and the doctors couldn't understand what happened to him. And for some reason, they had disappeared as soon as February started. Doctors had put it as a fainting spell from the weather during the colder weather.

Yet he always felt like he forgot something during that time. Something important. Oh well, he'll blame it on the gods.

Sam's relationship with Mikaela was getting significantly better. She and her aunt visited the Witwickies many times. It helped Sam with his mess of a social skillset, Mikaela with her understanding of respect. That was good. Mikaela wasn't dating Trent so that made everything considerably easier. Miles managed to worm himself into their group somewhere along the way. They became this little group of misfits, with Sam and him picking a few things up from Mikaela in the mechanics department.

He's ending seventh grade soon enough which meant last minute tests and projects as well as finals. He tries not to stand out in school. Above average grades were good enough.

Then there's the gods. He hasn't heard from them since.

Jamie sighs as he turns in his bed. His hair started to turn shaggy and he might have to get a haircut soon, not that it was the issue. He slept in the same room as Sam, sharing a bunk bed with him. Sam took the lower bunk while he took the top one.

It was another one of those nights. He couldn't sleep one bit. Nothing really gave him any reason to. So just kept thinking about whatever that might happen in a month or four.

_**"James, let's see that progress."** _

_Wait, what._

Jamie was careful not to hit the ceiling as he bolted right up. The shrill voice. The shrill voice is back and he's soooo very dead.

He calmly lied back down on the bed. His eyelids were getting heavy too fast.

 _'Resist the temptation.'_  Jamie had thought as he fought the sudden urge to get knocked unconscious. His rebellion had lasted five minutes before he gave up. ' _Damn you, weak will to live._  '

This time, the same darkness was there but he could actually see his body. He was still in his oversized shirt and cotton shorts, but it was better than floating in the void stark naked.

 _ **"Well you sure took your sweet time.**_ " The shrill voice scoffed. Now, Jamie knew what they wanted. They expected him to do something about the Allspark being a hangar away from Megatrons fingertips, about someone in the orbit of Jupiter or Saturn -he couldn't tell- and probably something about Quintessa. Teresa had barely managed to see the fifth movie before her death and she already disliked Quintessa. Probably because it reminded her of some middle aged republican who walked around in a store like they owned the place. That and her " _relationship_ " with Optimus, if it could even be called that. If Quintessa really did create Optimus, then her blatant guilt tripping, manipulation and down right slapping him across the face raised some red flags Jamie doesn't want to remember.

 _Still, wasn't she a god?_  Jamie feels like this is another way of going through metaphor purgatory. So he took a deep breath and let whatever hell in his mouth loose.

" _Why_?! Why in the seven hells would you choose me to do this?! Do I look like I wrestle demons every morning?!"

" _ **Watch your tone!"**_

"No, you watch  _YOUR_  tone! I don't know what Quintessa did to make you petty enough to make someone change the very flow of history, but I sure as hell won't be doing it!" Jamie yelled into the abyss.

" _ **Oh?! And what gives you the right to disobey your new god?!"**_

"Because you won't be any better than Quintessa with that crusty attitude at this rate!" Jamie may not have had a death wish in a long time, but his death might give Sam some quality angsty characteristics and better understanding of other people's problems. Maybe. "And how the hell are you my new god? I've never been religious in my whole _life!"_

 _ **"You ran into the altar in the middle of a communion and started chugging the wine they had when you were nine. The average priest is an alcoholic, you have no right to say that you're not religious."**_  Arguing with a god was very refreshing as it turned out.

"How do you know the average amount of alcohol a-!" Before Jamie could finish his sentence, his surrounding darkness turned into an incredibly bright light. So much it physically hurt.

" _ **ENOUGH!"**_  The voice had clearly gotten enough and wanted to get back to the point _ **. "Anyway, as much as your blatant disrespect annoys me, arguing with you is not why I called you here. I am here to see your progress. "**_

"Answer my question first. Why did you bring me back from," Jamie paused. He hadn't really known where he was after he died as Teresa. " wherever I was? Why  _me_  of all people. "

The voice seemed to stay quiet for a while.

_**"You have legitimate and fresh knowledge of this timeline. As for "why?" you probably already know. The events of this timeline are not very favorable for both your brother and the Autobots. And since I still have some undecided business here, killing two birds with one stone would be sufficient. The first bird - to curse and haunt Quintessa with her failures, and the second bird - to avenge my children. You, Teresa, are my "stone"."** _

"There are people who are more suitable for this than me. People who have more detailed information, people with actual power to do something."

 _ **"That's where you're special. You're paranoid, afraid of failure and logical. Others would instantly think highly of themselves and develop a hero complex, you, however, are numbed from constant criticism and analyze the situation for your best possible outcome. You stand out like sore thumb in the ocean of souls.**_ "

"Okay, now you're just talking out of your ass. Yes, I'm scared shitless of things not going my way. Paranoid is stretching it a bit. But logical is not an adjective that describes me."

 _ **"It's because you see no reason in any of your actions. If I were to give you a mission that guarantees a positive impact on your life with its success, would you pour yourself over with work to gain a complete success?**_ " Jamie felt his mind wandering. When was the last time he had actually cared about a project enough to gain motivation? His memory couldn't really think of anything.

"But you gave me a mission and i-"

 _ **"Because you're living like you're already dead."**_ The voice cut through like a knife _ **. " You think that you're powerless to do anything, so you let yourself be carried away by the flow. You lose any sense of hope simply because you feel weak."**_

Jamie wanted to stay silent. It's true, he had no power but there was something nagging at him. Something telling him that that's not quite it.

"Not really. I just, don't really see any point to it. Would saving lives really help anyone? Jumping into uncharted waters leads to more harm than good." Jamie spoke up. "And even so, would there really be something I could do?"

Jamie hadn't expected a chuckle.

_**"Child, you're talking to a god. Let that sink in."** _

"But if you're a god, then why can't you just get your revenge on your own?" Jamie knew what he was doing but her idea seemed to make no sense. Mess up her plan to destroy the Earth and then kill her? Couldn't the voice do that themselves?

 _ **"Well you don't see that fool Primus parading around for all mortals to see, do you? Gods need vessels. Something that could be able to hold their massive power in a physical body. Neither Primus nor I have that, but Quintessa managed to forge her own. She isn't as powerful as him, but without vessels, we're powerless to do anything to her. Unless an outside force cooperates**_."The voice mused _ **. "But anyway, the beginning of this war is within a months time. "**_

"We need a plan. And maybe find you a vessel. " Jamie mumbled.

_**"Aw, you worship me already. How sweet."** _

"Because I don't want to stuck with your inherent sassing for a good chunk of my life." Jamie retorted. He sighed. The question of "what can I do?" was solved but another arose. What should he do?

It didn't have to be something big. But it couldn't be too small.

He could take the glasses and try to keep them with him at all times. That way when Sector Seven comes after them he could wait until the Autobots got there and immediately give them the glasses, shoot the agents in the head and be done-

 _Wait_. Shoot them in the head? Jamie shaked his head. No that wasn't right. That option would have to go out the window instantly.

He could stop that one small robot from releasing Megatron. He could probably find it and throw it out while they were on their way to wherever the Allspark was. Hoover Dam was in South Nevada and they were in the middle of California. They would either have to go by plane or drive non stop all night. The later seemed less favorable yet...more realistic. Sam and Mikaela were taken by Sector Seven at about eleven thirty in the evening. They first drove around, got stopped by the Autobots and then the both of them were taken away and driven to Hoover Dam. Mission City, on the other hand, happened in broad daylight. So it would technically take about twelve hours since Mikaela and Sam's kidnapping to begin the operation in Mission City. So during the twelve hours of driving, he could pick - pocket his way into finding the robot and throw him out the window when they're still in California.

But the problem of him even being in the same car as them was still there. If they took two seats then there was a one in three chance that he would be in the same car as Mikaela and that wouldn't be likely since they found him using the stupid video that Sam sent to the police. Making it even more unlikely. That was a gamble on most parts.

If he, having the glasses in hand, followed Sam when he was chased by the police car Decepticon, then he could manage to meet up with the Autobots and give them the glasses before any of the hullabaloo even began. But what if the government doesn't cooperate with them? What if they see them as a threat and decide to bring the events of the fourth movie straight to the first?

Jamie rubbed his temples. He was over-analysing everything. If he kept going, he might suffer analysis paralysis. He groaned. He really didn't need that of all things.

" **You sound frustrated**." A deep voice commented. Primus. Right, he existed too.

"A little. Trying to think of something. I have a few ideas but I just keep thinking of more problems that come with them. I'm giving myself a headache."

 _ **"See? You're only a few minutes in and you've already got a few plans. You're logical and don't you dare talk crap about yourself again.**_ " The shrill voice told.

"Yeah, but most of the plans would only go into motion during the two days when all of this chaos starts. There's also the problem whether they'll be successful or not. We need something solid. Something that won't blow up in our faces when we already have our hands full." Jamie sighed. There had to be something he was missing. What were the objects that he needs to pay attention to? The glasses, the video, the phone, the cube-

 _Wait_. The  _Allspark_.

"Wait a minute. This might be something. Outrageous and stupid, but something." Jamie felt giddy. His fingers twitched and his mind was racing. "First god, weird voice god or whatever. When was-"

" _ **Don't call me that. Ever."**  _The shrill voice hissed.

"Okay, okay. You said we had to *minimize* the death count, right? When should be the time when the mortality rate is at it's highest in our situation?"

 _ **"It's obvious**_." The shrill voice scoffed. " _ **Mission City. "**_

"And what if it never happened?" Then there was silence.

 **"Go on**." Primus answered.

"Sector Seven or the glasses aren't the problem. Mission City is. How many Cybertronians and humans died there? Tons probably. So what if it never happened? How many people and allies would be alive? More than enough.

"But the whole point of the wreck of a fight in Mission City is to keep the Allspark away from Megatron, since it's less than a football field away from his reach at this point. So it's just one big dangerous game of keep away, if you look at it from a simple point of view.

"But what if the Allspark wasn't even near Megatron in the first place?" Jamie started ranting.

" _ **Pfhahahaha! NO. You, haha, you can't possibly be thinking o**_ f-" the shrill voice laughed.

"Keeping the Allspark away from Megatron before any of the events even happen, making the operation in Mission City irrelevant and pointless? Well that's one way to put it." Jamie finished. The shrill voice was now stuck in full blown laughter. Primus seemed silent.

" _ **Hahahaha, oh you small wild thing. You, a child, just thought of the wildest and stupendous way of avoiding the very issue!"**_

" **You're serious, aren't you?** " Primus cut in.

"Well think of it this way: if we manage to shrink it and hide it for a while, then the fight would turn into a chicken race at most. If we succeed, then we could confuse both parties and avoid any violence. The problem is actually stealing it from Hoover Dam, not what happens after. We could just wrap it up in tinfoil and run around the country for a few weeks until, well, anything calms down."

 **"You honestly believe that tinfoil could hide the radiation the Allspark gives out?"**  Primus seemed more surprised than offended. Though it did seem like Jamie was underestimating the only source of life to the Cybertronians.

"Well, if it's smaller, wouldn't the radiation range get smaller as well? If it does, it would be like walking around with a demonic microwave at most, right?"

 _ **"Oh, and how do you plan to steal it? I believe seven hundred meters of concrete and an entire eight hundred kilometers separate you from the Allspark**_." The shrill voice said. Jamie frowned.

"I...really don't know. It's just-"

 **"Just what**?"

"Well, if we're doing this to stop Mission City from happening, then we need to take out the source of the problem." Jamie replied. "All the other plans I have are dependent on taking out a piece of the problem. But if the Allspark is nowhere near the Decepticons or Autobots, it would make no sense for them to fight over something that isn't even there right?"

The blinding light from before returned with vengeance. Jamie felt his eyes burn as the light continued to grow brighter and brighter, as if the source was moving closet to him. He felt something burn his cheeks, he hears a hiss, only to be gone immediately.

" _ **Well, well, well. So this is what makes so special."**_

* * *

The first thing he Jamie felt the next morning was pain. Pain in his limbs and his cheeks. So when his body moved against his will, panic instantly arose. His body got up, walked to the bathroom. Then for a second, he didn't see his reflection. He saw Teresa, eyes glowing and limbs distorted. "Teresa" smiled and Jamie felt his face move. The reflection opened its mouth and so did Jamie. He saw a row of sharp teeth and thought-  _"I was missing a tooth when the fire broke out."_

 _"Today is Judgment day._ " He felt his throat and chest squeeze as he felt his limb reaching for the inhaler. Whatever was controlling his body wasn't him. So Jamie panicked yet could not muster up any effor _t. "Just like the fire, huh. No power over anything. Well, you still have me. We're two side of a brand new shiny coin."_

"Hey, Jamie, how long are you going to be in there!?" Sam knocked on the door. Jamie felt control return to him immediately.

"I just walked in, damn it! Wait your turn Sam!" Jamie replied. No use in yelling about what just happened. He grabbed his toothbrush and began applying the paste. The water was still running while Jamie was brushing his teeth.

Over the years, Jamie had given Sam a gentle push personality wise. And by " _gentle push"_  he meant a  **sharp swerve in another direction.**  Jamie's sass and snark had rubbed off on him, but Sam had an actual sense of self preservation and didn't have a short temper. Their mother had called them "two sides if the same coin". If Jamie was a short fused and lethal fire cracker, Sam was a manual input bomb. One wrong word in front of either of them, and a storm of hot tea was headed their way. But there was something that his Sam still had that canon Sam did. Lack of ferocity when it came to it. Jamie was a powerhouse in comparison. He had been in fights, several, and sometimes he fought like he was possessed. He didn't have a reason to live when he fought, so Jamie put too much effort into it. Sam just didn't seem to have a reason to fight, so he put no effort into it.

"Mom's making scrambled eggs. She and dad are probably going somewhere." The code for scrambled eggs was that their mother was making something quick because they were running late or on a tight schedule. One thing came into Jamie's mind.

"Duh, it's Aunt Jennifer. She invited them to some orchestrated concert. They've had those tickets since New Year. They might go out somewhere after that too." Jamie said as he spit out a bit of toothpaste.

"When you took a swig from aunt Jennifers flask and yelled why it had buttermilk in it?" Jamie's nose scrunched as he turned towards the door. He could feel the smugness in Sam's words. That and he had added too much toothpaste. Nonetheless, he continued brushing his teeth.

"We will not speak of that."

" How did being grounded for a month feel like? "

" How did getting a concussion to your ego in front of the whole school feel like?"

"Just get out of the bathroom."

"Nah. I feel like sitting on the toilet lid for thirty minutes now." Jamie poured himself a glass of water, rinsing his teeth.

"Mojo is peeing on your herbs." Sam knocked on the door again. Jamie spat out the water. The door flung open and Jamie rapidly ran down the stairs.

 _"MOJO, YOU FUCKING CRACKHEAD_!" Jamie shrieked, running down the hall towards the stairs. As it turned out, aggressive attachments to gardening was genetic. He managed to get himself a good chunk of the backyard and turned it into a greenhouse for basil, oregano, mint, parsley and dill.

"Sam! No cursing!" Yelled Ron from his room.

"That was Jamie." Sam said as he walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Jamie! No cursing!" Jamie ignored his father, running down the stairs. Arriving at the kitchen he saw Mojo and realized.

"Sam! I can't believe you did that!" Sam used the same trick on him. Again. A soft " _sorry_ " was heard from the other side of the house. "Why can't we have peace in this house?"

Judy was getting some plates out of a cupboard. Plasing them on the table next to the stove, she noted Jamie's bedhead and mojo peacefully lying on the sun, she walked over to him and ruffled his head.

"Morning Jamie. Let me guess, the old "Mojo is peeing on the herbs" trick?" Jamie squirmed a little under the touch.

"Yeah." Jamie sighed. "I'm going to get dressed." Jamie turned back to the stairs and yawned. He was never a morning person. Not as Teresa, not as Jamie.

"Me and your father are going to be gone for a few hours. No opening the door to strangers while we're gone." Judy yelled feom the kitchen.

"Mom, I'm not a baby. I'm more responsible than Sam." That earned Jamie a loud "hey" from the bathroom.

"Still. You don't know what could happen. Someone got kidnapped in Arizona the other week. Now go get dressed, no use in standing around in your pyjamas."

Heading up the stairs he went to the room he and Sam shared. Then he felt his bones stiffen. So that was only a break. His body began moving against his will. Hands grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans. Jamie eyed a discarded hoodie on the floor.

After getting dressed,  _he, it_ , whoever went downstairs and headed towards the dining room. Judy and Ron were already heading out, and _"he"_  gave a small wave as  _"he"_  was nibbling his fork. Breakfast came and went and Sam had decided to hang out with Miles at noon. The house was empty.

Suddenly Jamie felt his body move towards a window. A hand grabbed a nearby chair. Next thing he knew he was breaking the living room window and whatever seemed necessary. Jamie never had the chance to let loose and just wreck shit. Not as Teresa, and not in the past fourteen years. It felt... nice. Free. Natural. A soft feeling came in bubbles from his chest. Before Jamie knew it, the feeling consumed him, leaving the chaos uncared for.

After a window, some toppled furniture and a broken glass on the floor, " _he_ " seemed to see it as a decent mess. Jamie felt his body move.

" _He_ " took his inhaler and a spare canister, since they always had one in case one ran out and some cash he's been saving up for a good while. _"He"_  shoved it all into a fanny pack and shoved it into a large gym bag from the back of Jamie's closet.

" _He"_  left at two and snuck behind the garbage cans and bushes. And soon enough  _"he"_  was out of the neighborhood.

" _He_ " started walking. At first Jamie thought the walk was aimless until he saw the train station. Jamie knew. He knew.

Were the gods messing with him? Was this how it felt to be possessed? Did they actually take him seriously?! On taking the Allspark right out of Sector Seven in front of the god damn government?!

The ticket price was a solid fifty dollars but he had enough. He had been keeping his allowance to himself simply because he didn't know what to spend it on.

The hourly train. It was that easy. He didn't even need an ID. He could easily get on the train in Tranquility and get out in Las Vegas.

In ten minutes he was sitting on a eight hour trip and there's nothing stopping " _him_ ".

The eight hours of sleep later, he was walking past people in the city. Jamie had regained control over his body when the force had left him at the exit of the train station. Seeing as how stupidly late it was and how long it would be till the next train to Tranquility, he threw his hands up in resentful sobriety and decided to just sleep in a (hopefully) deserted park and pretend to be a hobo for the night. Going to a hotel to book a room was going to raise questions. He was a fourteen year old child with a large bag was just screaming "runaway". That and the ungodly prices.

But then he realized that he was in Las Vegas. Of all places, it had to be Las Vegas. Bar on every corner, casino in every hotel, cops on every street, drunk people being drunk was the norm. And so was illegal activity. Every shady person could be anyone from a drug dealer to an organ trafficker. Had Jamie had access to wine, he would've taken a few gulps. If the cops didn't get him first, someone else will. So he was stuck with trying to find a quiet, desolate place for the night. He was also pondering as to what the hell the force that was possessing him at the time thinking. Las Vegas in ten minutes to eleven?! Who walks around during that time day?!

Jamie sighed as he saw a cop on the opposite side of the street and quickly pulled his hood up. He ducked in a nearby alleyway and did a turn that led him off the main street. The back street was filthy, but had little to no people.

Hopefully Jamie could find a small place where he could sleep for the night. Suddenly, Jamie saw something out of the corner of his eye. Something small and blue. Turning his head, he saw nothing.

 _'I must be getting paranoid.'_  Jamie sighed. Turning back to the road, he nearly had a heart attack at what he saw. On the road was a blue blob like creature. It had four small nubs that seemed to serve as legs and two tiny triangles on the top of its head. A pudgy tail swished behind the blob. It almost seemed to imitate a small, chubby munchkin cat. The only difference being that it had no head. Just the form of a blob on legs with cat ears.

Suddenly, a big read eye popped out of the blob. Jamie took a step back. This thing was seriously creepy. Cute, but still creepy. And he'll be damned if the damn thing eats him. The cat blob stared right at him for a solid minute. Maybe it was just passing by?

"I...don't have any food if that's what you want." Jamie spoke up. The little thing's ears turned slightly to the right. Was it... tilting its head? Body? Whatever it was?

In a moment, cat jumped to the left. Before Jamie could move, it jumped back to the place it had been standing.  _'Do I try to mimic it?'_

Jamie held his bag tightly as he skipped a little to his left, and skipping back to the right. No response. Seeing as he nothing was progressing, Jamie turned his back and started walking the other direction.

That was a mistake. A very,  _very big_  mistake.

Jamie managed to move three feet before something grabbed his leg. Slightly stumbling, he turned to see that the pudgy tail had stretched and grabbed his ankle. Jamie stood still for a moment. Was this thing lost? Even so, who did it belong to? Was it trying to achieve something?

The tail gave a small tug in the direction Jamie had been walking.

"You want me to follow you?" The cat ears perked upwards as the blob started moving with its tiny legs. Jamie followed it, seeing as he had no other choice. The creature was sentient as turned out. "I'll take that as a yes."

A few hundred meters forward, a turn to the left, the right, the left again and Jamie was met with a pair of stairs in a wall. Either the blob was surprisingly fast or Jamie was incredibly slow. The small blob jumped down on a staircase and looked back at him.

"You want me to go down there?" The ears perked up again. He went down the stairs to see that the door he was in front of had a dog door. So the blob lived here? Or do strays just come to whatever this place was on average? Pushing the door open, the blobs tail tugged him into a grey hall with luminescent lights. After several turns and more walking, a faint hum of electronic music could be heard. The beat got louder as they walked. Another turn later and Jamie saw a metal door. This one didn't have a dog door. The music had gotten increasingly louder. This was most likely the last stop.

"This might sound stupid, but where are you taking me?" The blob turned to him. A small membrane of the blue substance went over its eye as it proceeded to move its body from left to right, lifting its feet rhythmically.

"A club? You took me to a club?" The creature stopped dancing and looked back at him. Jamie sighed. As much as this was fun, he really didn't want to spend the entire night in some shady club. "Listen, I know you can understand me and all that, but I have stuff I seriously need to take care of. Like getting back home before my parents call the police or something. If you want me to open the door, that's fine, but I'm not following you after that."

The creature did not acknowledge his words as it pulled him closer towards the door. Jamie felt the beat of the music in the floor. He pushed the door open and the blob let him go as it walked through the crevice. Pulling the door back, Jamie sighed and decided to head back. Maybe he could stay in the hall for the night and leave in the morning. His thoughts were cut short as he felt something grab his leg and fell. He groaned as he landed on his hands and elbows. Looking behind him, he saw the half of the blue blobs body, peeking from the crevice of the door. It looked unimpressed to say the least. Jamie rubbed his elbows as he turned to sit in front of the blob.

"Listen. If it's a club you want me to go to, then it's not happening. I'm fourteen, there's no way they're going to let me-" Before he could finish, the door was opened by a woman in her fourties.

"Come in. They brought you here for a reason." The woman gestured to the cat. Jamie got up and walked to the door.

What was behind the door didn't really surprise him. It seemed to be club, with a bar to the left. The crowd was moving to the rhythm of the beat.

"This is nice and all, but I'm not here to party."

"We know. The cat doesn't just bring anyone here. Follow him to the bar." The woman gestured to the cat, which was already halfway to the bar. Jamie hastily followed it. The bartender was cleaning a shot glass. Jamie realized that the chair was too high for him to reach and sit down normally, because society doesn't believe that short people who drink exist. Scaling the chair was a bit of a problem, nonetheless, he persevered. He left the bag on his lap.

"So, what's your story? Our little friend here," the bartender pointed at the cat blob which was slowly spinning in a chair next to Jamie. "just loves to bring in people with something special inside of them. And if he was willing to drag you all the way here, then you must be very special. Our little friend is incredibly lazy when he wants to be."

"Then it's had a little too much to drink. I'm nothing special, just looking for a roof to be under for the night." Jamie responded. The cat blob seemed to perk up in annoyance.

"Ah, I should elaborate." The bartender put the shot glass down and gave Jamie a rather threatening look." They bring people who have souls that aren't corresponding with their bodies. Yours is too old to be only fourteen. So, tell us a thing or two."

"Can I have some wine first?" If Jamie was going to stay here, he might as well get something out of it.

"No, you talk first."

"But I'd be more honest if I was drunk."

"You might also regret it in the morning. So tell us, why is a teenager running around the streets of Las Vegas at night?"

Jamie sighs. There is no reasoning with this bartender, it seems as this is not his first time dealing with this. This person knows he's reincarnated and has a purpose for such a thing. But why he wants to know is what makes Jamie uneasy. For all he knows, this could be a loan shark situation. They offer help, you get it and then they decide that they want the favor repayed immediately. Owing someone a favor can be risky.

"Why do you want to know so badly? For all I know, you want something from me." Jamie's words fell to a whisper. It's always like that. Everyone expects the law of equivalent exchange to be mandatory. It one receives, one must also give.

"Would you rather suffer on your own? Humans are a social species. If you're on a mission, then you might need a helping hand." The bartender put the glass down. "But help from a complete stranger is rather alarming. So this reaction is something I'm used to. So I'll start first.

"I am someone who differs from the society of humans not by race, status or power, but by the shape of their soul. Sensing the future that is mere moments away, understanding a person's true identity, no matter how many masks they wear. Human souls are a copy of the same thing, but differ in personality. There are many people like us, yet we have no name. We see life not through the glasses we are given through age, but by those we made through trial and error. Life and death.

"But the ability - no matter how weak or strong - comes with a price. Emotional, mental, physical or whatever. There is a toll no matter what. And you," the bartender pointed a finger at Jamie, "have the burden of knowledge and the responsibility that comes with it. One wrong move and a butterfly effect takes place. Now then, if you could."

Jamie was silent. He never really thought about there being other people like him. Maybe the god that brought him realized that relying on one human being was incredibly risky and decided that many had to do the job. But if this "ability" in every person like him is different, then wouldn't the reason why they were here be different too?

"I...was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I have a singular purpose, a mission to put it simply. To me, it doesn't matter if I fail or succeed. But to the world, it's a matter of life and death. Yet I still can't muster up any reason as to care for that. Maybe I'm self centered or narcissistic, but would life be of any meaning if we're going to kick the bucket either way? Only a handful can make their name heard across history, while the rest claw their way through thorns and needles, trying to find purpose."

"That is quite a negative outlook. How long has it been like that?"

"Honestly? I can't remember the last time I had an answer to the question "why?". Then again, there's no way I can find an answer now. This mission, this task - you need to be influential and powerful to accomplish it. I'm just one person with-" Before he could finish, Jamie felt his chest squeeze. A cough rippled through and more were on the way. Oh, right. Nightly dose. That happens.

Jamie hastily dug up the fanny pack and opened it, shuffling around for the inhaler. Upon finding it, he pressed it to his lips and pressed it to let the medicine enter his respiratory system. Three breaths and ten seconds later, Jamie felt significantly better.

"Asthma? That limits many things to you." The bartender didn't seem phased by the coughing fit. They've seen other people with diseases such as that. Terminal illness, severe anemia, tuberculosis. There's a lot. And many more that are constantly overlooked. "If your mission is truly that hard, then those lungs of yours will be a problem."

"Honestly, you have no idea. At least I know what it is though. Imagine having some sort of problem you can't even describe." Jamie joked bitterly.

"What do you mean?" The bartender was confused. Chronic illnesses they can understand. Something that gets in your way but you can't describe it? It's raising a suspicion they really don't want to be confirmed.

"Have you ever woken up in the morning but parts of your body hurts? Like the limbs and cheeks. It's something like your whole body is a remote controlled robot but you still feel every move. Every feeling. You panic when you take a vase and throw it against the wall, even though you clearly don't want to - something like that." The bartender looks pale. Even in the ever changing lighting, he can tell that their face lost whatever calm composure that they had. Eyes full blown, slack jawed and shoulders dropped.

"When did this happen?" Whatever this kid was experiencing, it was probably going to develop into full scale very quickly. The bartender has seen something like this once during a final stage of development and it was powerful in a way one could hardly describe. Not destructive, because it couldn't end worlds, not incredible, because it had no way of channeling any kind of power. But powerful because of the potential it had. Enough potential to gain the destructive and incredible factor that it didn't have.

And that was what made it terrifying. It had the ability to adapt and transform given the environment. It's shapeless yet it has sharp edges. If it senses impending danger, it can and will do something about it.

"Today. It's pretty much how I got here." Aaaand there it was. Which didn't just meant that this kid was in trouble, but that the bartender as well was going to be knee deep in this shit if it dragged him off to the very south of Nevada.

And drastic times called for even more drastic measures. The bartender put the washcloth down and ran into the back room. Only to run back behind the bar.

"Wait here for a minute. I am seriously too afraid to use this but-, well, agh why did you even have it? What the hell is happening?" The bartender stammered and tripped over their words. Jamie thought for a minute. He could tell the bartender whatever was on his bucket list and they could leave him alone for all they could care. But he'll have to make it as outlandish as possible.

Jamie propped his elbow on the bar, ready to look like he was spouting bullshit.

"The government is keeping an alien robot warlord and said alien robot race's ancient artifact hidden under seven football fields of concrete. And if I don't do something, that goddamn warlock is going to bust out of there in a month or so and go on a rampage in Mission City. Those two days will kill thirteen thousand people at the very least and because of some "chosen one" bullshit, I'm stuck with trying to steal something as big as the length of a mansion from one of the most guarded and secretive places in the whole world." Jamie sounded like he was drunk just by saying all that in one breath.

"You're shitting me. That sounds like something out of a conspiracy theory. A really shady one. What's this secret place?"

"Take a guess."

"Area 51?" The bartender gasped. Their fear seemed to have subsided.

"Hoover Dam. "

"Sounds like something out of a badly written movie franchise. Like the concept seems interesting and promising but it was half assed very badly. "

"You, my dear friend, have no idea how right you are." And with that, the bartender ran back into the backroom. Jamie looked back at the blob only to find an empty seat. This felt oddly like a scene from a horror movie. For all he knew, the cat could be sitting on the other chair next to him or on the table, waiting to scare him.

He was proven wrong when he saw the little thing trying to jump back up from behind the bar. Did it jump on the table and slip? Who knows. Couldn't let the thing suffer.

Jamie couldn't reach behind the bar as he was sitting, so he took his fanny pack and threw it over the table. There was a pull as weight settled on the belt and Jamie saw the blob climb up. It jumped on the table, it's feet giving out a small slap.

Jamie pulled back his fanny pack and shoved it back into his bag. He could feel the blobs eye on him. It moved closer to him. Jamie didn't mind.

Well, until it touched his hand. As cute as the cat was, the stuff it was made out of was as cold as ice. Smooth yet gelatinous. Jamie wasn't used to being touched so feeling that was startling.

He tore his hand back and looked at the cat. It was sitting there innocently, one paw slightly raised, in a way that was mocking him.

The bartender came back slightly disheveled. He had a black wine bottle in hand with no label and a thermos.

"Can the cat leave me alone? Its smug aura mocks me." Jamie pointed at the cat, who simply smacked the finger away with its tail. The bartender put the bottle on his working table and pulled out several liquors. Jamie could tell that one of them was Lemonchello, a liquor made of lemon zest, and Blue Curaçao with an alcohol value from fifteen to forty percent. Jamie now knew, he was getting hammered tonight. Hard.

The bartender proceeded to empty a good eighty percent of the wine bottle into the thermos. After that was done, he poured the rest of the contents into a mixer. The wine was thick and had a dark purple hue. Or maybe the lighting was tricking Jamie's eyes.

"Nope, Raspberry does whatever it wants. We have no power over the little thing."

"Raspberry? You named a blue cat thing Raspberry?" This night was going downhill fast. The bartender poured in the Curaçao and an Absolute Raspberry . He closed the lid on it and began shaking it.

"That's not your business. Anyway, quick question, have you ever gotten drunk?"

"Plenty. In both the previous and this life." The bartender stopped shaking the mixture and opened the lid. A small puff of strange smoke came out. This guy could either be drugging him or giving him some demon flaka dissolved in the blood of an alien. Both having bad consequences. He poured in the Lemonchello, yet only a little bit. Then again, it was beyond bitter.

"What's the heaviest drink you've ever had?"

"Vodka mixes with some fancy wine they serve in some restaurant." The bartender poured in another liquor and opened a small flask. They shaked it and small crystals fell down into the shaker. Demon flaka in alien blood it probably is, Jamie thought. Could kill him if he drank it, but maybe that's what he wanted. To just dissappear into something less than nothing. To pretend that Jamie Witwicky was just a dream that never existed.

"How did you act?"

"Absolutely batshit crazy." Jamie smirked. It was fake but that drink would either give him relief from this responsibility or the power to actually do it. The bartender put the thermos in front of Jamie and poured the mixture into a high glass. The color had changed into a gradient from clear to deep sparkly purple. He wonders if the wine they poured in was some kind of galaxy wine he's heard of.

"You expect me to drink this and maybe not die?"

"Yes, it won't kill you, just might give you the strength of twenty somethings. Put the thermos in your bag. That stuff is strong so don't drink it unless you're knee deep in trouble." Jamie grabbed the thermos and slipped it onto his bag. Now he was eyeing the tall glass liquid. "This drink is highly unpredictable, even if the main component is mixed in with other liquors. Take it with you and I'll give you a drive-"

But it was too late, for Jamie was already chugging it down like it was going to explode if he didn't. It tasted bitter but then sweet, almost too sweet.

"DRINK SLOWLY, YOU POWER HUNGRY WHORE!" Fear and worry was clear in the bartenders screech as he tried to rip the glass out of Jamie's hands. Jamie jumped off the chair and ran towards the second floor, a metaphor of the middle finger. Some of the drink got in his nose, causing him to instinctively snort and take it into his respiratory system. Boy oh boy, this was a disaster in the making and Jamie wasn't even halfway done with the drink. He had the bag in his hands and nothing was stopping him. Except for the nausea and lightheaded feeling growing in his head. He had one fourth of the drink left when he started seeing stars. Very strange stars that showed up in his view, clouding his vision in purple mist.

Jamie was halfway up the stairs before he fell and blacked out.

* * *

When Sam came back home to find the living room as a mess,the window broken and Jamie gone, he instantly called the police. Telling them the state of the room, Jamie being missing and the look of a literal robbery, the police got there as soon as they could.

The whole living room was trashed and a chair was most definitely used to break it. None of the neighbors reported anything. They didn't see anything happen. Jamie was gone, and so was the money he kept hiding. Even a part of Sam's stash was missing.

The police put the whole house on lock down. The window was broken, Jamie's fingerprints were on the chair and fingerprints of an unidentified person was everything else.

Sam just couldn't swallow the facts. They were robbed, yeah that was something. But Jamie was gone too. He never realized how codependent the both of them were. When one was threatened, the other bit back. They argued constantly but hatred was never between them. They went to the same school, had the same friends, shared the same room. Sam was pretty sure he was a huge part of Jamie's life and vice versa. But now.

Now everything just went quiet. He never realized how odd it was for them to be such big parts of each other's lives. He never thought they were this codependent.

When his parents arrived, they demanded an explanation as to why the police were there. After much yelling and cursing, the case was confirmed a robbery. But the case with Jamie was a mystery.

They couldn't tell if he was missing or not yet it could only be confirmed if he was missing for more than 24 hours. He left his phone in the house, yet his inhaler was gone. It made no sense.

Sam was a mess. And maybe in a literal sense. Panic had gone through him and was now replaced with anxiety. He couldn't say anything properly, he couldn't keep still, his mind was racing.

What if it was his fault Jamie was gone? If there had been more people, would none of this had happened? How long had this been like this?

The police officer saw just how much of a wreck he was and asked if he could stay at a friend. Thus, the call started.

"Hello, who's this?"

"Mikaela, I- Jamie, he- oh god this is all my-"

"Sam?! Is that you? Calm down, what happened to Jamie? Did he get hurt when he was drunk? If he did, I swear-" Sam's mind was blank yet his body refused to acknowledge it. He felt weak yet adrenaline was coursing through him. Jumbled words were pouring out of his mouth.

"Jamie is missing, someone broke into the house, there's signs of struggle, Mikaela this is all my fault- I, I-,"

"Sam take a deep breath. I'll call Miles, are you at your house? I'll pick you up and head to his house. Calm down."

Mikaela hung up and Sam was left with silence. The police sirens didn't help as white noise. The neighbors were confused or worried that their house might be next. His parents were still arguing with the police officer, his mom was crying. Yet all Sam felt was a rush of questions to his head. Everything seemed to slow down as the world kept going.

He and Jamie had been with each other for as long as he can remember. Yet now he was gone.

* * *

Megatron had been kept in the research facility of the planet called "Earth" for almost two decades. And he hated every nanoklick of it. They studied his body parts and reverse engineered it in so many possible ways yet they still had the most primitive technology he's seen in the past two million years. It's almost like they wanted their evolutionary progress to go on for as long as possible, just to tinker with his circuits. It grated his nerves more than enough.

Yet they just had to put him in arms reach of the Allspark. They just had to put him in arms reach yet he can't even move his damned optics. Were they mocking him? Maybe. Were they stupid? Probably. Was this absolutely infuriating? Most definitely. Did he imagine ripping the bodies of every fleshbag in the area and just genuinely destroy the place? Many times. He thought the natives were interesting at first but now he just loathed them. He couldn't wait for the day when he was going to break out of this frost.

If he even was going to break out. A few hundred years were a blink in comparison to his lifespan, yet the fleshbags had made it as agonizing and slow as possible. It was beyond boring in too many ways.

And he has yet to receive even a single signal from any other Decepticons. Even if the Allspark was on this planet, what were the chances that they were here as well? Slim most likely. The universe was wast and energy signatures as powerful as the Allspark could pop up and change the course of action of his soldiers quickly.

"Primus, if you're there, give me a sign. No matter how outrageous." He thought. If he could have at least have something different to happen in wherever the pit he was, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

His sensors picked up something. A pair of solid miles away but exceeding the norm of radiation a charge fusion cannon gives out. It's a wavelength that keeps changing and it drives Megatron up the wall. The energy it emits is something that makes his wires crawl with a cold sting.

And it's getting closer.

Suddenly, alarms began blaring. Scientists were alarmed as military personnel ran into the hanger. The doors were immediately closed shut as they began aiming their weapons towards the metal door. There was a solid fifteen minutes of preparation as well as yelling over communication devices. Things such as "what the fuck is that thing?!" and " he got his hands on what?!" could be heard within this short time and Megatron just wondered what kind of catastrophe he was missing out on.

Their weapons and clothes, slightly charred, was an indication of something putting up a fight and managing to push their line of defense back. Fear was evident on their faces. Megatron decided that, yes, this was probably going to be fun. If it's anything he loved, it's seeing sweet, sweet revenge happen before his optics. In this case, something going wrong in the plot of these fleshbags, running around.

"Crank up the ice on that thing! No matter what you do, do not let the target get to NBE-1!" One of the humans yelled. They were lowering the temperature on his prison. He couldn't feel cold but that didn't make it any more comfortable.

A small patch on the door began to heat up and spread through the entire door. So whatever was breaking into the chamber had thermal manipulation. If it was there for him, then the humans will understand what they have reckoned with. Crackling metal began to slowly melt. The color had changed from dark grey to bright orange.

Primus had either answered his prayers or was giving him some sort of divine judgment.

A small hand print smashed itself on the boiling metal. The hand was smaller than the usual humans that dealt with research. That was...odd. The temperature also increased in the area of the hand print. More hand prints slammed into the metal. Eight nails, visibly larger than the handprint, tore open the door as humans fired at them. The bullets were merely absorbed or performed ricochet on impact.

The hands were not the source but a transmitter of the radiation. The source was not far off though. The hands gave out a toxic glow as the metal boiled under it. Distortion wrapped itself up around the fingers. The energy felt so sharp yet not unpleasant. More uncomfortable to be exact. Creeping into the chamber and flooding the place with something evil. It's intentions unknown, it's potential unknown.

The metal doors bended to the hands, yet the humans proceeded to shoot. Some of them were shot themselves by the ricochet effect. Megatron snorted internally. Stupid creatures indeed. Soon enough, the gunshots subsided, one by one.

Soon enough the door was on the ground and the source was moving closer. The energy had flooded half the chamber and Megatron could see something stumbling into the hangar. Megatrons sensors picked up footsteps but much lighter than that of the humans that walked by him for so many days.

The energy source had a concentration field. It mimicked the humans form but it was smaller. Scrappier. Thinner.

Wait...

Were the humans insignificant enough to have a human sparkling ruin this operation of theirs? Megatron doesn't know if he should be angry or laughing. He almost feels ashamed of himself for letting the damn planet force the entire war to go on for Primus knows how long.

Several scientists were hiding behind panels and cars and whatever was left of the soldiers (their numbers had decreased) were falling back, cautious of the nails.

The nails jammed into the floor, blue and red substance oozing out of the cracks and expanding in length and width, taking the form of a jagged path. Tiny angles were protruding from it and growing even more and more.

Then there was clatter. And groaning. And more clatter. The soldiers relaxed but their faces had changed from fear to confusion. Suddenly, something, followed by grunting and moaning in pain, collided with the burning floor, making it hiss in the difference in temperature. If Megatron could have moved, his faceplates would be scrunched in disgust. Something that was clearly not in the best shape burst into the place, yet he was as useless as the extra people there.

"Don't waste any time! Shoot it! Now!" One of the scientists had grown a spine from the looks of it. The soldiers wasted no time to reload and take aim, despite the alarms still blaring.

Megatron knows a warrior when he sees one. Many know that. But it's seeing the difference between a warrior and a wild berserker with no leash that's important.

And the youth that jumps at the soldiers, twisting their limbs but never their head, grabbing the dropped gun and shooting their joints, is clearly something. Its touch burning through clothes and tissue like acid.

He knows those sluggish movements. When his opponents were near their end, sparks full of desperation, all manners and logical thinking go out the movement. But its movements are not desperate but rather uncaring. Almost as if a taunt. "Come, shoot me if you can. See if I care."

But what it does is different. It has all the possibilities to just rip the soldiers' heads off but it doesn't. Yes, it leaves them screaming and withering in pain but alive nonetheless. Killing them would be much quicker and more sufficient yet it doesn't. Which means it's not some mindless organism. It's plan isn't to kill, it's something else. Make an example of sorts?

Either way, it's intelligent, crafty and careless (a combination that never goes well together).

It makes quick work of the remaining souldiers with the gun and sets its eyes on him. Megatron, for a solid klik, feels hope. "Yes, yes, yes Come closer and melt me, scrapling! Give me the freedom I so rightfully deserve!"

His hope is quickly dealt with when the youth stumbled towards him and raised him the middle finger. Megatron has no knowledge of the fleshbags' culture, but by the reaction of the scientists, the gesture is supposedly vulgar.

"FUCK! Fuck you, you, you trashcan with a gun!I-" Before it can continue its outburst, it keels over and throws up an odd purple liquid. It straightened as much as it could seemingly muster up and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"I'm not here for your tin can tits, somebody else is going to do that in a month," Guaranteed Freedom! "I'm here, for that damn thing!" It pointed at the Allspark _. 'Oh, oh frag no. No. No! No no no!'_

If that thing is stealing the Allspark, it might as well be torture to have your goal taken right in front of you because Megatron was suffering on the inside. His rage was probably great enough to melt the ice if it were an actual physical object.

_'PRIMUS YOU PIECE OF SCRAP! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!'_

The nails detached themselves from the floor, letting more of the substance seep out and slammed themselves into a crooked line as a path to the Allspark. The human jumped on the first nail and proceeded to light heartedly skip towards the Allspark. On the fifth nail however, it slipped and fell flat on the floor with a slap. The human groaned and tried to stand up properly but its body clearly had none of that. Fragile things, the humans were.

Suddenly, a significantly large hand burst from the blue substance, grabbed the human and threw it straight at the Allspark. Megatron did not see the rest, but after sensing the Allsparks power leave the hangar, it was safe to say that the first thing he was going to do when he would be freed, was _hunt that damn thing down_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewrite this because the italics were messed up and I don't give a shit anymore, it's 5 am and any school night.


	3. Adrenaline panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie looks back at his mistakes as impending danger creeps up at his dumb ass

When Jamie wakes up on the cold pavement, the closest thing to remembering something after downing the drink is a lot of yelling and flinging himself at things. Afterwards it's just him running far too fast to be normal for him. The memories don't exactly flood in. In fact, it sort of comes back slowly.

Well, pieces of it.

He remembers being hauled over the bodyguards shoulder as she and the bartender ran outside to the parking lot. They strapped him in the back seat which followed by a lot of yelling from both of them. Everything after that was just him flinging himself at things.

His eyes flutter for a moment before closing, drifting off into peaceful sleep. A small pat on his cheek did nothing to deter him. After getting no reaction, the patting resumed with vigor.

"Five more minutes, Sam. " Jamie mumbled and closed his eyes. It was a habit for Sam to wake up earlier than him. A slap threw him back into reality. His eyes flew open in annoyance. " Sam! What the hell?!"

Much to Jamie's confusion, he saw Raspberry standing in front of him, expression rather angry. His tail was swishing anxiously. He can see the outline of his bag next to him.

Right. He remembers. He ran away to Las Vegas, got smashed at a bar that's probably a ripple in reality and, from the looks of it, stole their cat as well.

And Sam wasn't here with him. He was on his own from now on , but considering that he was goung to be without the person who he has spent 14 years with, it didn't seem all that good. He decided to start his new independence should be the gateway to actually be productive.

Upon standing up, nausea punched him in the gut and the blood rushed to his head. His stomach decided that it was going to be another late morning again, for he then caved over in half and threw up whatever was in his intestine. The liquid smelled awful and tasted even worse. His throat burned and his knees were weak. Before he knew he was crouching on the pavement, puking his guts out. After experiencing the equivalent of being gutted from his mouth, Jamie felt somewhat better.

He turned his head around to see where he even was. To his left was a brick wall and his bag. In front of him was his right was a grassy field with several shrubs and an Arby's sign. ' I just puked in the back of an Arby's. Great way to start the day.'

He wiped his mouth of the bile and tried standing up again. His bones ached and his head was still dizzy, but compared to what happened earlier, it was a good start.

First order of business, find out why Raspberry was here.

"Let me guess, you fell asleep in my bag and woke up a little too late? " Jamie asked. " Let's be clear - I don't remember shit, so don't bother chewing me out."

The gelatinous cat was now, quite mad and started waving his paws around in an angry manner and going as far as standing on his back legs and making exaggerated arm movements. After a while, the cat seemed to tire himself out.

" You done? " The cat ears perked upwards at his statement. He seemingly forgot he was even there. Jamie sighed. Had he still had the strength to be mentally exhausted, he would have held his head in his hands. But everything hurt and that sucked.

But since that was done, he should move on.

He looked at his bag and unzipped it. There was a screwdriver, his hoodie, a thermos, a small army knife, a roll of tinfoil, a USB, a few carton boxes, a flask, a Mossberg shotgun and AK -47 and something wrapped in layers of foil but that could just be his assumption. His fanny pack was tied around his waist, but he'll check that later. His anxiety had to be taken care of first. Gently touching the object, Jamie could feel vibrations and waves coming from it. Even a small little twinkle, reminding him of a needle being dropped on the floor of an empty room. Soft, easy yet powerful. Jamie almost feelt afraid of unwrapping the foil. But leaving him to grasp at straws was even worse. He carefully undid layer after layer until his eyes saw a dark jade metal with odd but beautiful carvings on it. He could feel the blobs eye on him.

The Allspark.

The  _bloody fucking **Allspark**._

He stole it. He actually committed theft against the government. Jamie feels as if the sweet release of death would not be enough.

Either the gods took him more seriously than his own mother or the demon flaka had wish granting properties.

Jamie knew this might happen but just not this soon. He wraps the cube back as well as he possibly can, taking his hangover into account, and immediately reached for the shotgun. It could be fake or -

The second he picks it up he knows it's real because it's heavy. Teresa had never picked up a firearm in her life, but knew that the difference between them was weight. Customs were tricky business though. If he gets pulled over, it's either murder time or game over. He's fucking screwed.

Eyeing the boxes, Jamie stuffed the Allspark and the shotgun back into the bag. The boxes were filled with something heavy and smelled of gunpowder. Ammunition.

He opened it and took a sniff.

 **Strong**. Wormwood. Satan's favorite thing drink with cheese.  _Absinthe_.

Jamie may be a compulsive drinker, but he's never tried absinthe before. It's not a liquor, for no sugar is added, thus making it a spirit. The heavy kind, that managed to score seventh place in the top ten most alcoholic beverages. Jamie screwed the lid back on and reached for the next item.

He reached for the USB port. It was a simple one, but it had the storage capacity of 16 megabytes.

Upon inspection, he found a small piece of paper taped to the back of it. He carefully rips it off and reads what's written.

_" Dear Jamie._

_They will find you, but don't let them catch you. I may be threateningthe outcome of this war with another one._

_Have fun, me. "_

Jamie crushed the paper in his hands. What the hell did he do?!

He opened his fanny pack before a cough broke out of his throat. Shit, where was his enhaler. More coughs broke out as he rummaged through the pockets before feeling the smooth surface of the inhaler. He grabbed it and began applying the dose. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Jamie felt somewhat better. He looked at the contents of his fanny pack. Money, bobby pins and a few quarters.

He leaned back, back against the wall, hitting his head slightly. Drunk him was an absolute nightmare, both to him and the people around. Jamie zipped the bag shut and looked at the grassy wasteland.

He could still be in Nevada or he could have gone south to New Mexico. Or maybe he went north? Jamie can't tell, but right now he felt in the mood for some food.  _Maybe_  a joint.

But right now, he had a new problem. With the Allspark in his possession, Sector Seven was going to be hunting him down and he's fifty percent sure they're not going to be playing around. That and some if the other Cybertronians that reside on Earth might have locked onto his location.

He couldn't stay in one place. His main problem was transportation. He had two choices - hitchhiker or car thief.

He was a fourteen year old child with a large bag was just screaming " runaway ", so the chances of someone snitching on him was high. Hitchhiking demands social prowess and Jamie has none. So car thief it is. And that was something that he could do.

"  _Not everyone can get a car or a job and not everyone can have a decent wage. I'm teaching you this only under the impression that you two will use it when you're in financial, legal or physical danger. Like running from the cops. "_  Was what Mikaela told them before showing them the ropes. How to unlock and start a car with a bobby pin and screwdriver. How to hot wire a car. Where to find tracking devices. How to drive the actual thing. She taught it all.

He's genuinely thankful to Mikaela for teaching him and Sam about how a car works and how to steal one. They would go to junk yards and try to loot old cars for shits and giggles last month. Sam had found a collection of limited edition baseball cards, Mikaela found two old earrings she managed to sell for six hundred. And Jamie managed to find a corpse with a bottle of rum. That was fun. Mikaela was like an older sister to him and Sam.

Jamie sent a small mental thank you to her before getting up and picking up his bag and proping it on his shoulder. Raspberry had been lying on the ground, ignoring him in bitter silence.

He picked up the cat, staring straight into its eye. Raspberry did not seem amused. "Guess you're stuck with me. "

He put the cat under his right shoulder, thankful that the cat didn't wiggle. Now he just had to choose a car.

The parking lot had a few cars. One of which was a van. That's nice. Considering that it was incredibly dark outside, he could get away with stealing a van.

Before he could move, a grey Mercedes pulled up into the driveway. The driver and two passengers seem to be drunk, with the driver being close to leaving those two in the middle of nowhere. As they walked away from the car, the driver had not locked the car, as his hands were busy with his two drunken friends. In fact, the keys might still be inside.

As shitty the situation may be, Jamie realizes that luck is smiling upon him for once. He creeps up from the corner of the building and starts nonchalantly walking.

He made sure to hide Raspberry from view with his bag. He walks past the three people, making it seem like he was nonchalantly walking towards the van.

After walking four meters away from the people, their backs towards him, Jamie makes a run for the car as quickly and quietly as possible.

He reaches it and checks the driver's seat. No keys. Damn, he'll have to use the screwdriver and bobby pins. He looks back at at the Arby's and sees the driver drag one of his friends to the bathroom.  _Perfect_.

He jumps into the car, throws Raspberry into the back seat and starts digging through the bag for his screwdriver and knife, while grabbing a pin from his fanny pack and shoved it into the slot, picking the lock,before hearing a click. The car smells like weed and chinese takeout. He checks the coast. No sign of any danger. He should carry on.

He opens the compartment under the steering wheel and starts cutting up the wires and rearranging them, the screwdriver locked between his teeth and the knife in his hands.

The engine revs up at last and he tries to make haphazard changes to the seat position. He barely managed to pull the seat as close as possible so he could see the road and get his feet on the pedals.

The driver runs out of the establishment and makes a run for the car _. Fuck, fuck, fuck **, fuck**._

He fumbled with the seat belt before giving up and slamming his foot on the gas. He realized that despite having a driver's license as " Teresa ", it has most likely expired and Jamie is way out of practice. Especially since he didn't realize that the car was put in reverse and now he's driving backwards.

Raspberry was flung into the back of the front seat from the force and fell down under it. Jamie grabbed the wheel and changed the gears from reverse to three.

Unfortunately, he did not see the driver running right at him and hit him with the hood of the car. Great, twenty minutes in and he's already run over a person and stolen their car. Parallel parking has never been Jamie's strong suit. Jamie makes a sharp turn and drives out of the parking lot and into the highway.

He's already driving at 50 miles per hour. He hopes there aren't any police officers around. In the rear mirror view, Jamie saw Raspberry jump back up into the driveway and the passengers as well as he possibly can.

Jamie is sweating like a madman and whatever fight or flight primal instincts he still has left have kicked into overdrive. He needs to find a town or gas station to get a map. He got a C in geography, he can't tell shit from the environment alone.

* * *

Simmons has been in Sector Seven for fifteen minutes and it looks like a war happened for six years. The computer room and the experiment chamber have claw marks and scorched metal on the walls, some being dented with equipment practically pulverized. The hangars and hallway look even worse.

Radiation and mercury plagued the atmosphere and molten metals were scattered closer to NBE -1 than he would feel comfortable with. And the doors?  _Gone. Molten past the point of use._

He was tired of analysis and looking over every piece of evidence of the break in. The same damn thing all over again. They found six unconscious guards in the computer room. Several guns were bent and melted, as well as multiple computers.

The suspectwas first seen in the computer room. He had attacked the guards there before disappearing while the guards were requesting back up.

The suspect was later found in the radiation chamber, busting out their newest project. More specifically, ramming the fire extinguisher into the box until the damn thing was yelling freedom at the top of its lungs. The experiment later escaped through the ventilation. The  _fucking ventilation._

And the damn suspect followed it. Fifteen minutes into tracking the god awful abominations, the suspect crawled into the passage way and started breaking everyone's joints.

He's pretty sure he heard something about him breaking into the weapons room.  _Great **. Fabulous. Give the Dark Souls boss ripoff an AK -47 and let it end the world as they know it!**_

Then the thermodynamic powers it was using kicked into overdrive and turned the molten doors into stakes Stakes! Simmons sighs. He feels like he's living in a sequel of the Exorcist.

He went through their defenses like wet paper, left almost 50 casualties, threw up on their floor and stole NBE -2. It was practically a catastrophe that hindered Sector Seven's entire functionality and purpose.

Simmons was already reaching for his third cup of coffee when someone grabbed his shoulder. It was a scientist that had witnessed the whole scene and was currently working along another group to find anything on the suspect.

" Mr. Simmons, something just came up. We believe you should know about this. "

Simmons read the tag on her coat. Proffesor Flughausen. Weird name.

He let her lead him to the computer room.

Upon arrival, two more were huddled behind a computer. One was typing away while the other was watching, stern expression on his face. Upon seeing Simmons, the scientist stood up and hastily walked to Simmons.

"We have a lead. They left a a virus ."

"Give me the details. "

Simmons pulled out a chair to sit next to, followed by Flughausen doing the same.

The computer screen was full of odd text and numbers.

"It's a multypartite virus. The type that corrupts files, copies them to a different source and corrupts the original. "Oh. Oh. Oh shit.

" This better not mean what I think it means. "

"It probably is. Although the firewall isn't much, there's a new file that's similar to a file in Pascal but it's already running. We're about almost done with the firewall. " Said a scientist behind the keyboard. "It's pretty basic, if we're honest. Even an amateur with basic programming skills and creativity could do this."

Suddenly, the screen turned black and a single white rectangle was flickering on the far left corner.

"I'm in."

' _Hello_.' The rectangle gave out a reply.

" Ask it what it is." Simmons said, phone already in his hand as Flughausen had a pen and clipboard in hand. This was the most evidence they had gotten in a week. Even the vomit from the subject wasn't helpful with forensic science, showing nothing more but components of alcohol and several other odd elements. No DNA, no saliva. Nothing. It drove the department insane.

 _'Who are you? '_  The rectangle immediately replied.

_'I dunno. Who are you?'_

"Are you kidding me? First legitimate piece of evidence we get and not even the suspect knows who they are." Simmons wanted to smack his head into a table. "Ask about their motive."

_'What do you want?'_

_'I got what I wanted. You want information. You're not getting it.'_

_'Why not?'_

_'It's for the best. Don't bother looking for clues.'_

_'The person who you're trying to find is both nothing and everything.'_  That had sent a chill down everyone's backs. It was so ominous yet so clear.

_'But humans are fickle creatures. No matter how many warnings one gives, you still go and fuck shit up. So consider this a threat._

_' If I as much as get a glimpse of your asses in my field of vision, literally every single personal thing that you and your superiors have tried to hide will be revealed to the general public within minutes. And that's just the first time. Don't believe me? The head scientist who was in charge of trying to decipher weaponry parts of you project is selling it to outside forces.' Shock went through everyone's faces. 'Humans are such hostile creatures.'_

_'We're not hostile. '_

_'That's what you think. But I know more.'_

_'A word of advice: unless you want a third world war, stay out of this.'_

_Scratch that. Simmons needs a fucking shot of vodka._

* * *

Mikaela knew what a desperate person looked like. She knows from experience, from seeing her dad hastily try and steal cars like it's the only thing keeping him alive. It hurt because she couldn't do anything.

Sam was hellbent on sneaking out of his own house to run all over the country looking for his brother. And with school still around, Mikaela can't even describe how impossible it was to work in class. His usual handwriting had turned into hasty chicken scratch. It made Mikaela think as if Sam was hurrying to something.

Tensions were running high and nobody could stay focused. But then again, who could? He was a menace and a cryptid yet someone had the balls to break into the Witwicky household and kidnap him, or so the rumor mill says. Mikaela had been as equally shocked. To her, Jamie was the little brother who would pick a fight with a cop over a liquorice stick.

But it's been a week since Jamie disappeared and Sam went from the snarky childhood friend she had to a nervous wreck of a human being. The first night when he went to stay with Miles for the night, he was catatonic. He couldn't sleep, not one bit.

Mikaela will not stand for it much longer.

Stopping by Sam's house, Mikaela locked the car and walked into the yard. She had the keys to the gate but made sure she locked it. She's more than welcome here but now, security was a major issue. Especially since it's still hard to trust anyone in the neighborhood.

Taking a look around, she saw Jamie's greenhouse. Well, if it could even be called that. It was a small glass house, about the size of Mojo's but definitely bigger. It was sealed with a few wooden planks and nails, construction glue helping the glass stay put. The roof was triangular but was made from four glass hatches. Jamie would open them up in spring to let bees in and just water them in general. Mikaela remembers how he stole two lunchboxes to make those makeshift windows. It brought a smile to her face.

She walked to the porch and knocked on the door.

"Sam? Judy? Anyone? " She yelled, knocking on the door. They were probably out looking for Jamie or spreading posters.

Suddenly, Sam came into view. He hurried to unlock the door.

"Hey, Mikaela, what are you doing here? Didn't you say you were going to be at the garage?"

"I'm here to check up on you. " Mikaela said. Silence was all that was left in the air. They sat down at the kitchen table, no knowing what to do.

" Sam, this has to stop. "Sam looked at her as if she had grown a second head. " Not the search. The thing you're doing. " Mikaela gestured to him.

"Searching? " Sam said as if it were a fact.

" No, this. When was the last time you ate? You look horrible! You're a mess. You have to take care of yourself too, or you won't even have the ability to function anymore!" Mikaela said.

"I'm doing everything I can! I just want to find Jamie!"

"That's the problem. All you've been saying is Jamie this, Jamie that, Jamie something. It's not healthy."

"Hey, I'm perfectly fine. Hell, I've never been better." Sam was clearly lying. The bags around his eyes were proof of that.

"You sure don't look like it. Your parents are worrying, you're on the brink of hysteria. You have to do something about this." Mikaela raised her voice. She had to get this point across. She was going to leave this house achieving something, even if she has to sleep on the couch and continue in the morning.

"What do you know!? You don't have someone who's been there with you your entire life, only for him to vanish without knowing what to do anymore! " Sam's hands smacked the table. He rapidly stood up, hands shaking.

 _"Oh?! I don't understand?!_  My dad has been in prison for six years, Sam. Six years!" Mikaela yelled. Sam was pretty sure he's never heard Mikaela yell. He's never even heard about the story of her dad.

" You think I didn't cry when I found out he was in prison? That I just forgot about it!? I think every night about it. About how I couldn't do anything to help." Her voice was firm and unwavering. She was dead set on this. She was gonna knock some sense into him.

"My dad stole cars so I could have a future. I wasn't going to let that slip away. I couldn't do anything, but that doesn't mean I won't be able to do anything now. If Jamie had the choice on who gets to live between you and him, he would have chosen you and vice-versa. So if you want to find him, you have to make sure his choice wasn't in vain." Mikaela stood up from the table.

"I just, don't know what- this is all-" Sam's hands were shaking. His eyes were close to tears and he looked like he was about to collapse. Mikaela walked over and wrapped him in a hug.

"I know how you feel, but I'm not letting you do something you'll regret." She let his head fall on her shoulder. He pulled away from the hug, trying to calm his breathing. She could see the resolve in his eyes.

" I, I know what I can do. I'll save money, I'll get-, I'll get a car and we'll look for him."

"Not enough time to do that. I really don't know anyone who sells cars for anything under 4 grand. "

"Oh, so you've got any better ideas? " Sam shot back. There it was, the snark.

" We'll steal a car. " Sam was about to open his mouth before Mikaela raised her hands in defense. "From the junk yard. Y'know, make some plan, sneak in, steal an old car, fix it up and start looking."

" Yeah. That sounds like a plan."

* * *

It was Starscreams turn to go on patrol in search of energon had arrived in the solar system about half a vorn ago and the planet had proven useful in energon harvesting. Despite finding it in small amounts, it was better than nothing. So they went on patrols, searching for any readings of energon, hopefully their master and maybe the Allspark - despite the latter being rather too hopeful.

Souldiers had been trickling in but knowing that getting knowledge of the battlefield would be favorable, several had been sent down to the planet as a way to make sure that they knew what they were fighting on.

About a mega-cycle ago, Soundwave had detected a rather strong signal from the planet. The signal had not stopped existing. In fact, it was moving. Soundwave had confirmed the signals location but the nature of the signal was a mystery. It made no sense!

Starscream hated it when things made no sense. Logical thinking meant that the signal had a plan. It's movements made no sense. Going from point A to point B, only to go back and then go in a completely different direction and then going to B again! Starscream wanted to find the damn thingand rip it apart.

Seeing as how it was Starscreams turn to go on patrol, he would also examine the signal.

The signal itself was rather bizarre. After mega-cycles of no activity, something strong enough to be sensed all the way from the planet was very suspicious. Soundwave as well as Shockwave have shown curiosity in the signal, seeing as how the natives have been unable to make something of the sort.

However, four cycles after Starscream went to investigate, the signal disappeared. Starscream loathed it. When things go wrong - and they do most of the time - even thesturdiest of plans fall through. This signal being one of them, with its annoying radiation and tricky nature.

This signal was promptly tricking them, almost as if toying with , the signal was a secondary objective. His primary objective was to find energon deposits.

He's actually rather pleased knowing that he can go into the planet and fly. His alt-form was useful in spacious areas and landscapes, so he tries to enjoy his patrol as the atmosphere brushes against his plates as he flies. It's refreshing, and helps his processors cool down. He's not saying he's enjoying the planet, but he should indulge in some positive aspects of it, right? There's no shame in that.

He finds a hefty supply in a mine in the place they call " Minnesota " and made sure to check it, for more is probably still there. He instantly transforms, ready to leave the miserable rock and less than  _a klick, a klick he swears_ , later Soundwave comms him.

"Soundwave reporting in. Signal Gamma has appeared again. Requesting Starscream to investigate. Sending coordinates. Over." Signal "Gamma" was the designation they had given it and it looks like Starscream won't be enjoying his rare time of peace after all. The coordinates showed that the signal was nearby, but moving away from his current location. However, it was moving slowly in comparison to his speed.

"Soundwave, do you really need information on this singular fluke of a signal? I'm sure you'll be able to function without it, right?" Starscream was sure to put in as much irritation in his words as possible. He disliked this annoying signal and he wanted Soundwave to know just how close he was to shooting the damn thing without a second thought.

"Negative. Signal "Gamma" is believed to have an energon like reading. Could be a new possible way to harvest energon. Starscream, investigate."

"And what if it's not?"

"...Please? Shockwave offers half his next two rations." Starscream could feel the subtle smugness over the comms. He really didn't want to day no to that but he didn't want to spend his free time on the signal. But a whole half of a ration...

"Affirmative. I will investigate and tell whether or not it'll be useful. " And with that, Starscream changed course and flew towards the coordinates. This was going to be a long lunar - cycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally deleted the original but managed to rewrite it fml


	4. Starscream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie gets wasted and possibly possessed (again) while Starscream has his life flashing before his eyes. It stinks.

Hands itching for the spirit, Jamie kept driving.

After stealing a car and running over someone, Jamie spent the next two hours driving aimlessly, hoping to find a gas station to get a map of sorts to call it a day. Driving was a stressful job which forced a person to focus on body parts with pinpoint precision while sitting. This meant that even the slightest push or jump of a leg could end in catastrophe and a whole new problem.

But that was not the only thing that bothered him. Jamie did feel the adrenaline in his veins slow down, but it had made him more angsty by the minute. It was dark and his headlights were on but he was still driving above speed limits. He felt relaxed, almost nostalgic as his eyelids felt heavy. The grip on the steering wheel slightly tightened.

Why did it feel so nostalgic? Was it the constant fear of being caught? Or was it the thrill of actually getting back at the government that ruined his future, that installed faulty wiring into Teresa's apartment, that screwed over the educational system and forced people to take out loans they could not pay back to actually survive? Or maybe, maybe it was the sweet familiarity, the calm business like attitude Teresa had as she was driving in someone else's car, money in her pocket, driving to a forest in the middle of the night-

No, Jamie cut himself off. Now was not the time to romanticize theft or looting. Or alcoholism. It wasn't even remotely helpful. Teresa had to do what she must and so must Jamie. He had a task at hand and he needed to fulfill it, even if he hated every minute of it. The gods had wanted something to change and having a plan fail halfway through would be bad.

Driving on the remote highway, Jamie spotted a crossroad with a gas station with a yellow neon 24/7 sign at the edge. Finally, he was getting far too sleepy to be considered safe for driving. He stopped the car a few feet away from the possible places to actually stop one in order to hide the license plate and his possible route. Closing the door behind him, he alerted the sleeping Raspberry, who woke up with a start. He made a a calming notion with his hands to the wildly flailing blob. He raised five fingers.

'Calm down. I'll be back in five minutes.' The message was clear and Raspberry calmed down. Jamie walked to the station quickly, hoping to finally get some sleep. He pulled up his hood, hoping to hide his face in the very least.

A jingle sound was heard as he walked through the doors and Jamie had started eyeing the chip and junk food isle. If he was gonna sleep, then he would have to wake up and drive from early morning, so breakfast would have to be quick and on the go. He started walking through the isle, trying to find something that wasn't going to damage his liver. He had the absinthe and space wine for that. No need to overdo it.

Spotting a few juice boxes in the freezer, Jamie opened his fanny pack to see his available sum. He skimmed through his pouch and, much to his surprise, he still had about ninety dollars left with spare change. He expected less but who's he judge his blessings. A ten dollar bill caught his eye and he pulled it out. That could be enough and it's not too much to draw attention. He pulled it out and shoved it into his pocket as he grabbed a juice box and as many granola bars as his tiny hands can hold.

Walking around, he saw brochures and maps at the counter. But what he really didn't expect was what was written there.

'Welcome to Minnesota!' Jamie nearly dropped his rations. Minnesota. He managed to drunk travel all the way to the other side of the country. He's almost impressed at his own stupidity. He's never gotten that far while drunk. At most, Teresa ended up hungover in the next city. Next side of the country was out of the question. If he had seen himself, he would have looked like a dead fish receiving shock therapy.

'Okay. Maybe, maybe I can this work. Somehow.' He thought. He walked to to the counter, ready to pay and maybe a map. Upon further investigation, he decided that he'd be better off stealing it. It reminded him of Teresa's college days when she had to put off eating to at least pay rent. Or use an alternative way of income.

Placing his items on the counter, he waited for the cashier to come out of wherever they were.

He nearly chokes on his own saliva when they do. Because it's not the cashier that comes from the back room, but the bartender who's supposed to be in Vegas.

There's a moment of silence between the two before Jamie can croak out a single word.

"How?" The bartender shrugged.

"Remember when I said that we both differ by the shape of our souls? Do you honestly think there wouldn't be any power that bends reality and it's perception of it? It's practically a packaged deal." Jamie was about to ask exactly what it was and why he keeps helping him, he stole your damn cat-

"By the way, how's Raspberry?" The bartender spoke, scanning the items.

"He's mad at me, threw a fit. Y'know, what anyone would do if they were dragged into this mess." Jamie said as he eyed the sum of his purchase. "I think he'll be rolling in joy when he finds out he can go back-"

"Keep em with you. For the time being that is." The bartender cut him off. Jamie looked at him, confusion glazing his eyes. "Trust me. Two heads are better than one."

Jamie was about to ask why before the bartender snatched a map from the counter and a marker from his pocket.

"Hey I'm not paying for that." Jamie retorted, clearly not wanting to spend more money than necessary. However, the bartender soon opened the lid off the marker and started crossing out the barcode, going as far as scritching outside the lines. Then a silver sticker of some racing car was slapped on the handy work.

"The white parts of the barcode is the scanned, not the black parts. If you ink it heavily enough and add an aluminum sticker, you can get through security." This was a shock to Jamie. All his life, no, all his existence he's thought that they had been scanning the black lines on the barcode. He feels as if the government just loves messing with society for some reason. Or indoctrinate it with false information every now and then. He slid the map across the counter. "You can keep the marker."

Jamie hesitated.

He could do this but this person was already helping him more than necessary. Was it because the bartender actually believed him about Megatron and, what would be in three weeks, Mission City? Maybe, maybe not. What if they knew something? Jamie had knowledge but that didn't mean nobody else did. Still, he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Oh, before I forget."The bartender started digging under the counter. An awfully familiar flask was put on the counter. "That wine might be strong but only with this stuff. Remember-"

"Only for emergencies."

Slamming the bill on the counter, Jamie grabbed everything he bought and the map and flask, practically flying out of the store.

He nearly dropped a few granola bars as he ran to the stolen car. He let whatever he had fall on the front seat and slammed the door shut.

His heart rate was rising again, that much was obvious.

Raspberry was already alarmed, jumping from the backseat into the back of the front.

Jamie slid into the front seat and twisted the screwdriver. The moment the engine reved up he slammed his foot on the gas. A sharp turn to the left and he was off driving into the thick forest.

Driving senseless through the woods was the worst thing Jamie could have done. He couldn't stay up like this but he had to get away. He needed something to keep him awake. His hands reached for the glove compartment and began searching for the radio. Hands fumbled with empty wrappers and boxes but not the thing he was searching for. For a second he tore his eyes off the road and when he looked back-

He slammed on the brakes as something grey caught his vision. He could hear Raspberry slamming into the back of his seat. The grey figure quickly ran across the road.

"A racoon. A fucking racoon, you must be shitting me-" Jamie wheezed. Raspberry had climbed up to the cup holders. He must have made the cat angry again. A small smack to his hands brought his attention to the blob. "Hey! What gives?!"

The swishing tail pointed to the clock. 01:12. It was already past midnight and he was still driving.

"You want me to stop?" Rapid shaking followed. Jamie sighed. Sleep sounded like a wonderful idea but driving in open daylight was risky, even if he was in the middle of nowhere. That and he didn't want to get attacked by a bear because he accidentally drove over some berries or something.

"Okay. Maybe I could drive around the woods and hide the car so no one would find me. But if another racoon starts terrorizing us, I'm driving and not looking back." He mumbled the last part as he drove into the woods.

After driving around for a couple of minutes, he found an uprooted tree. It was bug enough to hide the car bit whether or not it fell on something is a whole new problem. Jamie gave up on thinking about it as he was too tired to pay attention to anything.

Turning the car off and looking at the bag that had been lying in the front seat, Jamie thought about what happened. He had stolen the Allspark but now what? Stall for time? Find an Autobot who was on earth and just give it to them? Go back home and pretend nothing ever happened as a weapon of mass creation sits in the back of his closet?

The last one was almost funny. He could imagine how comically shocked Optimus' face would have been if he dug the Allspark from under his bed. But that gave way another problem. Keeping the Allspark away from the Decepticons was obvious with no questions asked.

The Autobots, however, will prove to be even less productive. Jamie had to keep in mind that he was holding an artifact that could very well decide the outcome of a war. However, that wasn't his goal, that was a possibility. His goal was to make sure that nobody died in a war. But that would negate the a bit of the meaning of the term "war". In "war" there are bound to be compromises, sacrifices, victims and martyrs. But they only come around when the opposition has an advantage or just really dumb luck.

If he gave either side the Allspark, it could give them an advantage; one you couldn't overcome.

If he gave it to the Autobots, they'd use it to mass produce souldiers to fight the Decepticons, who in turn would be angered by his decision, would fight back with a burning passion and vice versa. That was the worst case scenario. The best case scenario would be them leaving the planet immediately after gaining the artifact, heading straight for Cybertron, but the problem of getting there was bad on its own. Humanity won't be able to provide them with the technology that they need and even if humanity did, it would only make sense for them to want something in return. Flying to Cybertron on their own was risky on its own - Optimus spent two to three years floating around in space, frozen by the vacuum. They'd need a ship, but the onlu two known were both in the hands of the Decepticons.

The child souldier version of both parties wouldn't be that different though. The only difference being the circumstances under which the smaller bots would live. The Decepticon faction probably being the more brutal one in raising young. And he really, really isn't sure what the Autobots would do. The first movie had told them that Optimus wanted to restore his home planet, but he couldn't go there because Quintessa kept polluting it with her massive ego. Not that he knew at all. In fact, both factions would only find out about Quintessa after 10 years in the very least.

There was also the question of what Quintessa was. He's not even sure how she happened. She was surely a being higher than the Cybertronians, but she wasn't the one who created them. It just didn't sit well with him. If Primus created the Primes and everyone else, then it would be fine. It should have been fine, but it wasn't, due to the bias and hate the two factions had towards each other. But if Primus was the creator - he had to be - then how did the blatant disrespect even appeared?

Fingers would definitely be pointing if Jamie were to bring up the issue with both factions. Christ, he sees just how under qualified for the job he is. If he had more understanding and knowledge of the back story, he would be able to analyze the issue further and maybe come up with a theoretical timeline and spectrum of the problems that arose during that time. But even with the lack of knowledge, Jamie can already see just how much of a shitshow will happen.

He grabbed the bag and reclined the chair. He might as well get some sleep.

* * *

Jamie woke up to the floating darkness again. Huh, so either the gods were here to congratulate him or ask if he has a second phase for the operation. He realized he was no longer actually floating. Rather, he was standing on the Allspark in it's original size. The texture of it made it look like it was from mica stone but Jamie knew better. His shoes were the only thing between his feet and the cube but it wouldn't hurt to actually touch it, right? Sam had managed to carry it around for two hours minimum, so it couldn't be harmful, right?

Jamie crouched down and traced his hand across the surface. There was a soft vibration coming from it, almost like a hum.

A sharp chime went off in his head. Hello.

A few more went off. I believe this is our first meeting.

Holy shit. Holy shit, the Allspark was sentient. It hadn't shown any sign of sentience in the first movie so there wasn't much to go on.

A glow of light blue and yellow on his legs caught his attention. He looked up to see a pair of blue eyes and two pairs of yellow ones peering at him.

"Child, we meet again." The blue eyes were most likely Primus and the yellow ones were the other god's.

"Yeah, we sure do." Jamie replied, slowly shaking his head.

"Ah," Primus spoke up, eyes darting to the cube underneath Jamie." Allspark! My creation, it has been too long."

Several chimes went off but Jamie couldn't understand them. Huh, so it was a "speak when I speak" type of communication. Primus' eyes softened as he listened to the chimes jingle.

"Is that so? Has our dear friend been treating you well?" Primus asked. Jamie knew they were talking about him but probably not for long. He'd chew Primus out about the war and Quintessa later. Who knows how long it has been since they've talked; he'll let them have that much.

Jamie glanced over to the yellow eyes. They were staring lazily at him.

"Hey. So, uh," Jamie knew he was no conversation expert but he should have probably known her name."I wanted to ask you something. I never really got your name."

"I have many names, but my creations refer to me as S'rik." A yellow mouth had opened up with rows of teeth adorning it. Now since he thought about it, Primus didn't have a mouth. He must have had a voice box instead.

"It has come to my attention, that while you did steal that, " S'rik gestured to the Allspark, "this is an indefinite change that could be undone within this month's time. And with your current purpose being what it is, think of this a danger detector."

Before Jamie could ask, he felt something burning itself into his strings started growing out of Jamie's left arm, numbers and letters appearing on the back of his wrist.

**_Humans: 15,679,561; Cybertronians: 56._ **

"Any questions?"

"Yeah, just two. Number one: what the fuck?" Jamie jumped to the edge of the cube closest to the yellow eyes. Gravity was still distorted but at least it saved him the effort of walking all the way there. "What is this shit?!"

"It's a meter. It changes depending on what you do, seeing as you currently have the Allspark in your possession. I'm sure you can figure out the rest." Jamie was beginning to believe that the reason Quintessa wanted to kill S'rik's creations was because everyone else wanted to but really couldn't.

"Oh, sure, give a person a tattoo that tells him the exact amount of people that will die because of him and eventually guilt tripping him. No pressure." Jamie put as much sarcasm and poison into his words as possible.

"Second question, Teresa." S'rik said through gritted teeth.

"What the fuck is your beef with Quintessa?" Jamie winced at his own words. He hadn't meant to make it sound so rude, but the burning pain on his arm and S'rik using his first name just made him even angrier.

"My "beef" with Primus' bloodthirsty daughter, no, that thing, is what she did to my creations." Words of malice came from the mouth. "You are aware of the duty of the Primes, correct?"

Upon hearing the word "Prime", Primus tore his attention from the Allspark into the conversation.

"Erm, I guess? All I know is that they would search for solar systems with no signs of life and use the star for energon harvesting."

"That is correct. However, with this coming into play, Quintessa is in no way a Prime. Rather, she was originally supposed to be a messenger of mine. A leader of sorts." Primus said. "While the Allspark is the only source of new life for the Cybertronians, its energon harvesting qualities are...subpar."

"Not everything is perfect, so we can't really blame you. Even so, isn't energon a natural source of energy?" "Teresa" had once heard her friend call instant coffee "synthetic energon". Knowing that something synthetic exists, there should be a natural counterpart.

"Yes. Although the Allspark is able to create such energy, its options were limited to low-grade and medium at best in small. So the thirteen original Primes had to find an alternative method."

"But it took too long."

"Almost. So Primus over here decided to confront this issue with another issue."

"She was not an issue at the time."

"Then how did she end up hunting down civilizations and committing genocide of dozens of races of large stars to make it seem like they were uninhabited?! Mine were fortunate enough to see a pattern and flee."

"..." A wave of guilt washed over Primus' eyes. Jamie felt like he was better off just sleeping dreamlessly. Still, he knew Quintessa was an antagonist but not that much. Mass genocide was not a debatable issue. Never debatable. In no way would there be "grey areas" or "pros" of that.

"You still care about her? Even after she used her authority as a messenger for colonization? Even after lying to your creations about being the one who created them? All that and you still care?" The questions came out before Jamie could even think further on the subject. He couldn't try to get an answer as to where it came from. This information - it just kept slipping into his mind. "She did all of that and you still don't think she should be punished?!"

"...S'rik, believe you can continue with the issue at hand." Primus answered. Jamie could see that his optics had dimmed, even if just a little.

"Don't change the subject!"

"Starscream." Said Primus suddenly.

"Starscream? What does he have to do with Quintessa?"

"Nothing. He is, however, heading to your location." Jamie's eyes widened. The Decepticons found him. Shit, damn it. He had to think fast. Really fast. "I suggest you wake up and deal with the issue."

* * *

Jamie shot up from the driver's seat fast enough to make the paper air conditioner dangle. While the adrenaline in his body was forcing him to start the car and adjust the seat, his mind was somewhere else. Starscream was Second in Command in the Decepticon army. He was coming with guns and weapons that surpassed what he had. He also had a clear resentment towards humans, namely calling them squishies. This all meant one thing.

Starscream was going to find out he had the Allspark and kill him for knowing about it in the first place. Searing pain etched itself into Jamie's wrist. He pulled his sleave down.

Humans: 16, 567,890; Cybertronians: 62.

Bloody hell, how in the world had the number jumped so high up?! Was Starscream really that trigger happy?! But, this was Starscream.

"Shit, merde, merde, merde-" Jamie started cursing in French. There was something about cursing in his first language that really made him feel better, even if only a little. He had to hide that for a good fourteen years, with Ron's parents being from England. Learning English wasn't exactly bad, but he'd love to be able to speak both languages in the very least. After centuries of peace, the French and the English still hate each other after all, even if only subtly.

Raspberry had woken up at the sound of the engine revving and looked up at Jamie. Jamie looked over at the clock. 03:56. Almost four in the morning and he was already getting chased. Great way to start the day.

" Nous sommes niques. C'est un foutu badel, c'est foutu-"

Jamie barely finished telling Raspberry how absolutely screwed they were before slamming on the gas and ploving through the woods, narrowly missing a collision with several trees. He grabbed a few of his rations and started munching them as quickly as he could. He'd need the energy and every ounce of luck he still had, ignoring the pain on his wrist.

* * *

Starscream had managed to get to the general location of the signal yet a problem arose. Despite a small empty human residence nearby, the perimeter was covered in vegetation and hid most movement on the ground from him. The closer he got to the signal, the more distorted his sensors got. The radiation was most likely spread out and the cause of navigation problems and glitches. Simply flying around the perimeter and continuesly scanning would do no good.

"This is a waste of my time and skill. "Shockwave is willing to share his rations" my aft." This could at least give him some time from the cramped spaceship. He shifted out of his alt form and walk through the area but the radiation was messing with his scanners.

This meant the signal was using its own signature to cloak itself. Smart, but only to an extent. He'd have to search in his bipedal form to find Gamma and hopefully wipe it off the face of the damn planet or take it in hopes of better living conditions.

Transforming in mid air, he scanned his radius. No abnormalities, except for the hints of static .

Starscream started to scan for areas of stronger radiation. There should no doubt be a stronger signal closer to the signal. He began strolling towards a strong trail of radiation. The more he walked, the closer he got.

But suddenly, the radiation had dropped quite suddenly. And he detected movement. Starscream whipped his helm to the sound of it only to have his optics glitch and static flood his sensors again. He was beginning to get agitated with this...thing.

However, this gave him a direction to move in and he wasted no time heading in that direction. The fluctuations in radiation continued but Starscream was able to make out heat signatures and movement. Despite the thick forest making things worse, he could somewhat see something that of a car moving.

A Decepticon? Wouldn't they have contacted the Nemesis first? An arrival of other Decepticons hadn't been signaled and they'd have to somehow land on this pit of dirt in precise timing of it being on the opposite side of their previous position. Either way, that was as likely as them finding Megatron.

An Autobot? That seemed rather unlikely. They haven't encountered one in mega-vorns. But if it was, then Starscream was going to have a blast beating the bot into the dirt. A large energon suply, extra free time and now free lethal target practice? Primus must be smiling upon him!

Ripping through the trees in excitement, he was readying his cannons. The car he was chasing picked up its speed. Either the Autobot was desperate to survived or just overly proud in his evacive methods.

Firing off several shots, he watched as the vegetation and soil exploded in flames. The car was unharmed as it flew through the woods, narrowly missing his shots. Hmm, the damn thing seemed fast. He chased the car through the forest in the direction of the settlement. Was it trying to hide there? It wouldn't be likely, since the settlement was small.

After several misfires, he managed to hit the engine and make it stop. The car stopped and began smoking, but the signature was still resonating. It just made him even more angry with the mission. The engine was one of those parts that could cripple a warrior easily if hit at the right angle. Starscream had done that a few times and almost every time the opponent's energy signature dropped rapidly. For the signature to rise even with the mortal injury was absolutely-

Suddenly, a young human jumped out of the car and the energon signature followed it. It followed it even as the car exploded and a multitude of scrap flew into the fauna.

_Oh_.

This was a problem. If the source of the signal was an item that the human was carrying, then the human could be dealt with easily. However, if it was the human, then a more controlled and careful method would be necessary and Starscream was not a fan of organics, no, it was Scapel who was the mad scientist of the group. Well, him and Shockwave, but Shock was much less fanatical in his experiments.

With the vehicle destroyed, the human would have to resort to running. The small locals were usually slow and it would be easy picking now. Starscream, although once a slave, was a self taught master of immediate plotting. In this case, most would take cover in buildings so he could easily smoke it out. However, signal Gamma proved to be an anomaly of the most annoying type.

"Hold still, you piece of scrap!"

The fleshbag, as the locals say, "runs like a mothefucker", even with the extra bag in its possession. From jumping into and under large objects to just running around him and under his peds. Downwards into small openings which were too small for his digits to reach into. Yet at some times, if he got far enough for a singular klik, he'd try to get into cars or buses before giving up on it to hide. The crafty little scraper was trying to shake him off or outrun him using other vehicles but it was also fiddling with the items inside its bag. Perhaps signal Gamma was an item and not the human he so vehemently wanted to shoot. He hoped so, he wouldn't let the damn fleshie anywhere near his cockpit.

He ended up chasing signal Gamma all the way to the edge of the town, near a large abandoned building. If Starscream recalled correctly, it was a prison.

It's fast, but not fast as his guns. He's decimated several buildings in hopes of immobilizing or cornering it but its eyes never left his frame. Starscream's temper was running short and so was the human's breath. His yells mostly consisted of shocked sounds and what could be understood as profanity but the seeker tried to ignore it. Keyword tried. Starscream was already close to chopping it's head off, letting it slander his greatness was simply asking for torture. He's positive that "enfoiré" is an insult. Maybe he could give it to Skywarp or Thundercracker if it begged for mercy or tried to fight back. Depended on which. Thundercracker had been rather fond of the local species, claiming to see them as amusing and fun to mess with. It would definitely give Starscream some support from his fellow Seeker. But if the damn thing tried as much as anything on him, Skywarp would have a new plaything.

It stopped, leaned over the wall of a house with a stumble and Starscream didn't hesitate. He lunged forward to grab it when suddenly it ran straight at him. Perhaps the human was dumber than he thought.

However, the human slipped from under his grasp and made haste into the abandoned building.

"You slagging-" With whatever energy it still had left, it ran towards the building and jumped through one of the windows. Frag, Starscream was getting rusty if he couldn't catch a single organic. This was outrageous! What was that thing, a damn sports car with nitro addiction in bipedal shape?!

Looking over the rest of the town and seeing the whole mess that had just unfolded, he's sure that it would be suspicious if the prison didn't join the mayhem and scrap as the rest of the settlement.

* * *

Jamie has never exercised so much in his whole life. He had barely managed to get a few kilometers through the woods when Starscream just straight up ran up to him and blew up the Mercedes he was driving. After that went some of the closest calls to death that he has ever had. He used whatever parkour trick he saw on TV and hiding spot he saw yet even so that helped in absolutely no way. No matter how he'd maneuver through the town, Starscream was always on his heels.

He knew this was going to happen, really he did. But he realized that no matter how mentally prepared he was, his adrenaline filled mind had never experienced something as terrifying as this. The concept was so foreign and no mental wall could help him overcome the sheer fear of the situation. He had tried to fetch the thermos, the flasks, anything that should have remotely helped him but Starscream's ugly fucking mug kept finding him. Was it the Allspark? That and maybe because the ghost town was so small that you could hear a cat knock over some cans on the other side of it.

Ironically enough, hope came in the form of an abandoned prison, empty of anything. He had managed to get to the second floor before his asthma really made everything terrible. He had been coughing and wheezing ever since he got anywhere remotely close. He barely managed to whip his enhaler out in the nick of time.

Running across the halls, Jamie saw Raspberry open the bag from the inside, a box of ammunition stuck on his head.

Wait, ammunition!

"Raspberry, move." He said, pushing the cat away. He grabbed the shotgun and yanked the box off of Raspberry. He loaded two rounds in and shoved four more into his fanny pack. The weight felt odd and out of place, with whatever muscle Jamie had. The shotgun would have fit perfectly in "Teresa's" hands but now was not the time for reminisce. Putting the gun aside, he grabbed a flask and the thermos, wondering if this was going kill him before Starscream. The drink he had at the bar was watered down. He had no idea what the solid version would do. He decided to go for the flask and the crystals inside first.

He opened the flask and shaked down a handful of the crystals. They were a pale green colour which simply screamed "poison". Jamie sighed. This was probably going to taste like expired coffee brewed with a lemony fizzy drink but it was better than dying by Starscream's fingers. He threw his head back and swallowed it all at once.

It later turned into a terrible decision as hid throat, mouth and tongue burned. Jamie was briefly reminded of a child in his neighborhood who swallowed a whole spoonful of malic acid and then proceeded to be shipped off to the hospital.

A loud crash resounded not too far behind him and Jamie grabbed the shotgun and took off in the hallway. He shoved the flask into his bag and began rummaging for the thermos. Another crash happened, the shotgun was getting heavy in his hand. Everything in his vision was getting distorted and his vison was sharpening.

The thermos was finally found when he was a bit away from a main hall of sorts. He flicked it open and took two gulps, unable to bear the pain in his throat. But the feeling of it going down, changed something. As if a switch had been flicked and gave rise to something else. It was horrifying and something he had never experienced. He shoved the feeling down, or at least tried to as he fumbled with the lid.

His head was spinning, words and phrases of a language he couldn't recognize coming from his lips without his knowledge. Intrusive thoughts and feelings suddenly poured into his head, each one showing something different than the last. He couldn't concentrate and stumbled a little from what was happening, nearly dropping the shotgun.

He barely managed to stuff it back into the bag, when a large metal hand grabbed him.

* * *

When Starscream grabbed the pest, he expected lots of things. Screaming, thrashing, weakly hitting his digits. The vermin pointing a relatively primitive gun at him was not one of those things. Neither was seeing its eyes glowing in a shade of purple, something that was far from natural among the fleshbags.

The gun wouldn't do much against him. Cybertronian metal was far more durable than the metals found on the planet. It would be like throwing a pebble at him. Gently.

The child took quick aim and unloaded two rounds straight into his optic. Pain seared into his processor and, almost instinctively, he threw the child across the room. He grasped his optic in pain as the child screamed a few pitches higher than usual. The little slagger actually got him! How dare he?! Screw Shockwave and Soundwave, it was personal now!

His other good optic saw the fleshbag's head hit the wall with a sickening crack. However, something odd was going on, as Starscream saw that the child's biological body behaved unnaturally in comparison to its organic build. The hair, which typically was supposed to be soft and moldable, had seemingly turned into a solid and shattered into pieces yet blood still splattered the wall. The sight reminded him of a bowl of high-grade hitting a wall. But the crack was followed by the sound of something breaking and falling to the ground. Shards of a dull, grey crystal fell to the floor and not even a klik later was the body followed. The figure fell on the floor, the now short hair falling over its eyes. The sack it was carrying slumped off its shoulder onto the ground. The radiation was beginning to dull, almost seemingly gone, with only the energon signal left. Starscream gave a cautious scan to the body.

Temperature - 37degrees, 40 degrees, 45 degrees, 47 degrees. The temperature kept rising.

'But It's dead.' Starscream thinks. Perhaps this is a human thing that happens. They bury their dead do maybe they do it to avoid human combustion? Who knew, humans were weird. They never devoted any research to them.

Humans were soft, organic and fragile. They would fall over even with just a flick of a digit.

A sigh left his frame. Perhaps they treated them unfairly, but even so, it would happen eventually to them as well. An organic species is not known to last long, especially one as primitive as this one. One klik they were on the edge of their second Renaissance, the other their species was on the brink of the Apocalypse. It was a grueling cycle he saw amongst these types of planets, with cultures that went as they came.

Even if their existence was somewhat special, they were only one of hundreds out in the universe. They might as well use them for something good.

It made Starscream feel sentimental about the sketch of the idea of putting the race to serve them as slaves. He personally experienced it, for back before the war, before he met Megatron, Seekers were commonly used as slaves, with nobles and elites blaming their rare frames and calling them "defects" and "below them". The humiliation and rage was forever burned into his processor and the thought of doing the same thing that the elites did to Seekers to the humans, as they say, "left a bad taste in his mouth".

He kept brushing those thoughts back. This was war. War had consequences and prisoners, prisoners who were then defected into servants or killed. Sacrifices were necessary. They lost their planet, their culture, their home. This fate befell on the humans even before they were created. The minute the Allspark landed on their planet, they would be inevitably involved in their war. It was only obvious that they'd be seen as less, being primitive and far behind on their development.

Child souldier were common back when the war was still on Cybertron, sparklings being forced into warframes with guns and weapons and into the front lines. It was a characteristic of the Autobot faction during the beginning of the war. They ended up making monsters, adrenaline junkies and cannon fodder. They didn't know any better, they didn't have any choice - everyone kept saying. Still, they kept forcing sparks out of the Allspark for war until the Allspark refused to bend to them. And they sent it away.

It was frowned upon, then it happened more often and soon enough it became normalized. Then it stopped and everyone kept asking "why are there so little souldiers?".

Starscream shaked his helm. Now was not the time for reminisce, he had to investigate that energon signature.

The corpse twitched. Starscream halted. It was...still alive? Impossible, their bone structure was too soft to-

There was another crack, this time from the broken arm that was snapping itself back into place, something was smoking from under the cloth it was wearing. The same thing happened with its head as its head twisted into different angles. Starscream scanned the not-exactly dead human again.

Slag, the temperature was rising at an abnormal rate, with chemicals beginning to form in several places.

The body began changing color from the pale flesh color, to red, then orange. The concrete around it began heating up as the heat spread. Starscream took a step back. What physical abomination was he witnessing?

The head turned to him, sneered and charged at him.

Starscream tried to grab him again, hopefully another throw would-

The fleshbag grabbed his digits and it burned. Metal melted as the human began turning into a literal furnace from the pit. It dig into his wires and ripped them off, throwing them aside as if it were scrap.

Starscream howled in pain and formed a cannon with his other good servos and blasted the human. It dodged but that didn't stop Starscream's fury.

He was enraged! The damned scrapling was supposed to be dead! He didn't give a slag about the mission anymore, it needs to die.

But what messed with him the most was the look on the fleshbag's face. It was gruesome, angry and willing to rip him apart. But worst of all, it reminded him of Megatron.

Not the Megatron who started the war, who foolishly tipped the balance. No, not Megatron, who was leader of the Decepticons. Megatron, gladiator of the pits of Kaon. Megatron, who fought for his life cycle after cycle. Megatron, who had become hateful towards the system the Primes had put them in. The Megatron that had gained ideas and started spreading them. The ideas that the system resented, but Starscream. Starscream listened. And he heard. He felt as if they were thinking the same thing.

But that was the old Megatron. The old Megatron, who had wanted nothing more than equality on Cybertron, so that places like Kaon stopped existing, had long since been replaced by someone else. He doesn't remember when it happened but Megatron, who he had once thought of as a friend, an ally, became drunk with power and settled his sights on conquering Cybertron as a whole. His strategies became more and more holeful. His behavior had gotten worse and everyone assumed that it was simply the war taking its toll. No, it wasn't the toll of the war. He had heard stories from him, about how he would fight day and night at times and even then he was in a clear state of mind. Something else had happened. Something had replaced the real Megatron he knew.

It enraged him. His companion, someone who he's seen laugh in the face of death, replaced by this thing. That was most likely the rise of his backstabbing tendencies.

Sure, he and Megatron had rejoiced together victory after victory against the Autobot faction. They reveled in the energon of their enemies! They had taken down giants, larger than even Megatrons frame! And oh what satisfaction did it bring.

But oh how he loathed the new one. His behavior was no better than those who ruled above and soon enough, Starscream had began to hate the friend he once thought he knew. Subtle sabotage, leaking information, relentlessly but sneakily giving the opposition hints. He did it all out petty rage and disgust at what Megatron had turned into. He wanted to smack some sense into that processor of his but-

He couldn't. He just couldn't. Their relationship had gained a gap. A gap that had turned them from equals to nothing more than master and servant. He had hated the current relationship so badly, he simply wanted to tear it apart. But, he couldn't. This power dynamic had turned slowly and stayed that way for vorns. For so many vorns. So long, that Megatronus, gladiator of Kaon, seemed like nothing more than a dream. A mere illusion of reality.

He never wanted this. Not this war. Not this outcome. None of this.

Yet a skeptical part in his processor told him that Megatron used him for personal gain. He was one of few Seekers that had outright voiced their displeasure about the system. And what better way to gain followers than to have someone who's felt such pain firsthand? Starscream had listened and it was probably the smartest thing he's done in his life.

What little of their friendship was left had decayed and rusted over through the tides of war. Some who had known him before the revolution would ask just how did their companionship, born from the very ends of the pit, had twisted itself into the awful coexistence that it was. Starscream never gave them the answer. In the end, the only reason why he kept following him was out of hopes that they might win the war and fear. Fear of being scrapped.

Signal Gamma had stopped dodging as the surrounding temperature rose up to staggering levels, both from his blasts and from the human's teleporting shenanigans. The concrete was growing a bit too hot for his comfort.

Megatron had turned merciless and he turned a blind eye. It happened.

Megatron made a deal with Sentinel Prime, a Prime of the opposition and old times, who's ideas were no different from the time of the Second Dark Ages. He kept his voice box shut, hoping that this was indeed all for the sake of the Decepticon cause.

But then Megatron so very foolishly went after the Allspark. It was, by far, Megatron's stupidest decision that almost guaranteed their loss. He reached out to him, hoping, praying to Primus that there would still be a shred of the past left. And Megatron? He backhanded him. He ignored his duties as a leader and whatever sliver of hope Starscream still had was gone.

He had taken over command, pulled their army out of the gutter and threw his whole being into winning the war. Or at the very least, fix the problem Megatron had started.

He managed to do better, focusing on strategies and tactics rather than sheer numbers alone. It saved him half the Decepticon army, but didn't sway their loyalty from Megatron, even if he abandoned them.

Cybertron fell, the cause for both factions was lost but the war was still on. A new goal was now in place.

Find the Allspark and restore Cybertron.

For once, Megatron's dumbest decision seemed like the smartest.

He tracked down the approximate coordinates and managed to shrink down their territory to a solar system.

Flying to the Nemesis, he had thought that he would take command again and begin searching.

He was proved wrong when he saw the Fallen. The first Decepticon faction leader was seen as the more favorable option for leading in Megatron's absence.

That didn't mean he trusted him though. The only way he outranked Starscream in favor was in terms of experience. Nothing more. He was an old mech, older than Sentinel. And Starscream had a knack for hating old ghosts. There was something odd about him, like there was more than meets the eye.

Starscream was knocked back into reality. Quite literally. The signal had resorted to flinging stray debris at him. The hot concrete had become molten in some places and it was quickly becoming a hazard to both his face plates and helm. The signal was getting better at its aim. He used his jets to fly up from the ground but only enough to keep him away from the floor.

The molten ground turned into a very light purple scorching liquid as Starscream's processor screamed at him to get out of there. That was not energon. That was most definitely not energon. He didn't get a chance to scan it before the signal started yelling at him again.

"Get out of my sight!" Yelled the child- no, not a child, not even an organic, unless the information Barricade had been feeding them was false. Signal Gamma was a better name for the physical anomaly he was currently attempting to capture.

It flew at him, bouncing off the cells and metal bars for momentum and melting them off almost immediately with a noise that made Starscream's sensor bleed.

Starscream knows that Cybertronian metal isn't something that easily melts but that doesn't mean that signal Gamma is simply thermodynamic. Radiation is not something that they've experimented with and Starscream doesn't want to find out more than others.

The signal grabbed his ped just as he managed to fly out of reach and started scaling him like the meddling cockroach it was. Starscream tried shoving it off of him but with no success before-

The fleshbag came into his line of vision, reeled his arm back and-

Pain. Screeches and static. It felt like a molten needle was pushed past his optics into the inside of his helm. Nothing but pain exploded in his helm as he scratched at his face plates in hopes of  _getting it off of him, he's sick of this slagging-_

_"The back of his cell was anything but quiet with the match and the roaring audience outside. The newbie must be getting a lucky shot-"_

Something in his processor buzzed.

_" "Megatronus, is this-"_

_"Don't touch that! It's personal."_

_"You write poetry?!"_

_"I said don't t-"-"_

Memories started flashing in his processor. Was this what the human's called "life flashing before one's eyes"?

_" "Megatronus, perhaps you should-"_

_"Megatron. That is I will be called."_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"We are changing this world, Starscream, it's only obvious that I should go under a new name into a new world."_

_"Really? That does sound nostalgic. Maybe I should-"_

_"No.""_

How ironic. His life, his whole miserable life was going to be the latest thing he saw.

_" "Megatron, please, I beg of you, have logic. You can't just leave the entire army to go on a hunt for the Allspark! Think of our cause!"_

_"Didn't i tell you to call me 'Lord'?"_

_"If you go through with this then there will be nothing left to rule!"_

_"Silence, you pest! Are you questioning my leadership?!"_

_"This has nothing to do with leadership! How do you expect the Decepticon cause to win this war if you're not even going to bother-!" A gun was pressed against his helm, nearly denting it._

_"Starscream, you have one klik to undo your mistake or **else**.""_

Pathetic. Truly  _pathetic_.

The pain was too great and before he knew it his back collided with the earth underneath him while he kept scratching at his faceplates.

He grabbed something soft and, with what little strength he still had, pulled it off of him as quick as he could and threw it weakly into the distance.

Getting up was no easy feat after that. Energon poured from the cavity in his head. He was in a near offline condition, if he didn't get back to the Nemesis-

He'd rather not think about that. He tried to ignore the pain and transform, to get off this next level pit. His frame didn't listen to him, the pain kept throwing off his concentration and he was fading fast.

_'C'mon, Starscream, pull yourself together.'_

"You." He's not even bother looking at that fragging monster. No, he has other things to worry about. "And me. We've lost someone very important to us. Slipped through our fingers, never to be found."

There was silence. Nothing but the hiss of molten rock to fill the night.

"So you saw, huh? If you think I'm like you you're wrong. You're nothing but a-"

"Megatron and Megatronus are two different personas. And one is most certainly gone for good." Starscream gave out a wheeze. Primus, this was ridiculous. The enemy was sympathetic towards him, how low can he really go?

"Oh, you have no idea. Can't even think of that scraper without wanting to punch someone. I trusted him, I followed him, I nearly died for him!" Starscream's T-cog was probably damaged. He sent out a distress signal to the Nemesis and Soundwave.

"Yet all he did was spit on you."

"He sure did." Starscream barely managed to stay awake to see the signal and coordinates delivered before falling into stasis.


	5. Lo and Behold, Hangover of the Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small glimpse into Jamie's back story and some revelations. Starscream starts venting.

"Is this part of your plan?" Jamie winced as he opened his eyes to the empty black space that was probably his dreamscape. He was partially sure that was S'rik's voice.

"You'll have to elaborate." He saw what he could assume to be S'rik. S'rik was a giant, with two mouths and four eyes standing out in armor like skin. There were hollow, pocket like fins sticking out on the back and seemed to come out of every crack of skin. The head had looked more like a mask with horns tied to a jagged mountain. The glow that came from the inside of their body gave Jamie the assumption of of a deep sea predator.

"Don't play dumb with me. I brought that person into this universe, who are you to groom him into whatever you want?"  _Grooming?_  Jamie was equally amounts surprised and angry. Were they trying to get him to lean into a particular direction? For a specific purpose?

He noticed one thing however. He couldn't see his nose.

He was  _invisible_.

"At least it's better than what you have in mind. If I'm correct, you had original plans to colonize this planet. Your first attempt ended with someone from _that world_ breaking out of your hold. It was bad enough that he was one of your strongest and to rebell, but also to start sabotaging the operation? What makes you think that you can try again, with someone with the same connection to that world?"

Wait  _what_? This was new information. As in " _you shouldn't be hearing this_ " information. Knowing this meant that Primus and S'rik weren't  _with_  him, but for the time being not  _against_  him. But for how long?

"You say that as if you're better. Isn't it your daughter that genetically modified and entire organic race with the purpose of harvesting suns? First a dwarf star, then a regular one and soon the star that circles this planet. How many planets has that Quintessa killed? After all, she just loves doing your dirty work, doesn't she?"

"You value humans too much, do you? Is it because they worship you as a false god?"

"Your words mean nothing to me, you fraud. Like daughter, like father - you'd love to wipe humanity off the face of the planet, wouldn't you."

_Red flag, red flag, red flag- shit, they both sound like pieces of shit._  Does Primus actually want to destroy the Earth or was that just the Quintessa genes talking? She wanted to destroy the Earth because their world was made of two planets, one of which was a world eater. But where did she get that idea in the first place? Did she get it from Primus?

He knew S'rik was shady, but  _fuck_. Their creations apparently had a history with humans, maybe during the first few centuries of the millenia but worshipped as a god? Were they actively trying to turn Earth into a colony during the middle ages? From the sounds of it, they failed but now they're using Jamie as  _attempt number 2._

Now this was fun. Teresa hadn't been one to listen in on conversations or arguments, frankly because her household consisted out of her, her father and maybe the neighbors. Fights in the household were rare, nonexistent even. Teresa only listened in on one fight in her life and that was basically the catalyst of their morally indifferent crime life.

This was definitely new information.  _Blackmail_  information. But can you even blackmail gods? Probably not, since it's they who make the rules, not follow them. Still, it's important information. He can finally try to put things in a system of "friend or foe".

The bartender is a most definite friend. No bartender would actively go along with some madman's plan of avoiding an intergalactic war.

Or maybe the bartender was also sent by these two numb skulls? They certainly didn't seem human. They promptly even said it. Not by their speech nor by the aura around them. Especially if they found him in Minnesota of all places. Maybe a wizard like Merlin? No, probably a vampire or some immortal.

The Decepticons would probably be foes, but maybe that could change. He's never really understood their goals because he frankly doesn't know them. Three cheers for shitty plot pacing.

He can't rule out the Autobots as friends or foes. He knows he's changed whatever understanding they'll have on him, he just doesn't know how he changed it.

Sector Seven is a foe. He doesn't need to know what they think of him, he broke in there and probably wrecked half the place all the way to hell and back.

S'rik and Primus are temporary allies, but this is where he needs to think. For how long will they be allies and when should he cut ties? No doubt if Megatron breaks out. One of them will try to paint the other as the monster and try to choose - Cybertronians or humans. That's... a really fucked up choice. Considering that neither will end pretty.

Jamie thinks, if his first goal was to ensure minimal causalities but each God was referring to their creations only, then technically he can say that he was referring to both humans and Cybertronians. Jamie chuckled, thinking how truly useful the _"I didn't understand the theme"_  excuse can be. It'll definitely piss both of them off.

Still, maybe he could mess around on his own and-

"How long have you been there?" Jamie froze. He could see his nose. He's not invisible anymore. Fuck.

_Aaand_ , that was his queue. Jamie closed his eyes and bit down on his tongue. There was a flash of light, brighter than the one that he saw before. But this one was different. This time, when he opened his eyes he wasn't sure where he was. He was invisible again, though.

The whole place seemed like just one big clearing on a very cloudy night.

_'This is new.'_  Jamie thought before his head started pounding.

Memories trickled in one by one.

At first there was fear. The fear of getting caught, of getting hurt. It came in the form of red eyes and fire.

But then there were voices. None of them made sense and Jamie was sure that none of them spoke a language he was familiar with. Clicks, whispers and roars. Chants, whistles and groans. He couldn't understand what they were saying but something was different. Unlike in the bar, when they were just whispering, now it felt like they were projecting emotions onto him. Muddled feelings had flown in and out of his mind.

The wind in his face had been nothing short of scorching. An ache in his legs had shown itself as light touches of heat brushed against his face.

Suddenly there were memories. Memories of fighting, yelling and insults. Everything feels too fast  _and nothing makes sense-_

_Fire. Poison. Heat. It burns, it burns, it burns, it burns-_

Flashes of images went through his head. Scenery of metal cities and lights, a battlefield covered in glowing substances, hallways of cramped airways, red eyes, full of malice and hatred  _instead of solidarity and trust, why did he change-_

_Who had turned you into this, Megatron? Or did you simply became so out of choice?_

_To let your people fall into the well for a cause long lost?_

* * *

Jamie woke up with a jolt. The sun was shining through the curtains of the room. His breath was ragged and didn't notice he had been crying until he rubbed his eyes.

He groaned, raising his hand up to block the rays from his eyes. He felt heavy, like someone had turned his bones to lead. A thick blanket was draped over his sleeping form.

He wanted to sleep over this headache. He wanted to go back to bed and pretend he's back in Tranquility. And yet he couldn't go back, not without the risk of Sector Seven finding him or his whole family getting radiation poisoning and half of the suburbs being deemed inhabitable.

Jamie craned his neck to the left and groaned. It hurt so much just to move his head.

Last night he met bartender again, who apparently can teleport. He drove around in no direction particular and ran into Starscream, who then proceeded to wipe the floor with him. Or wall. He didn't remember. After downing what probably was malic acid and some sort of strenght boost potion from the depths of hell, he lost conciousness. Or maybe just blacked out.

By the look of how he was still alive but sore beyond explanation, he either kicked Starscream's ass back into the spaceship he came from with some magical super strength or got thrown around like a ragdoll and barely escaped.

Wait.

_Wait, the Allspark. Where the hell-?_

Jamie sprung out of whatever he was lying in. It hurt just to fucking stand, if he lost that fucking death cube of eerie matter on the first week he- he doesn't want to think about it. His neck ached and he felt his right arm hurt so much he nearly sobbed. His soles hurt like he had been running for days.

"Putain merde, I swear to hell itself if-" Jamie spotted the bag, somewhat burned and covered in ash, lying on a chair next to the- where was he lying again- couch. He grabbed it and proceeded to check the contents.

All was there.

All was there including the Allspark, wrapped tightly in foil. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief.

_'Oh fuck yeah.'_  Jamie thought. He breathed a sigh of relief and slumped down on the couch.

So many questions were running through his head.

How he got here and why his clothes look like he just ran into giant fire were questions but there was something else that was more pressing.

First was S'rik and Primus and second was the dream he had. Both bizarre but necessary.

S'rik and Primus probably hated each other for trying to one up the other. S'rik was clearly sugar coating the "save innocent lives" plan and Primus seemed to just stick around because he thought it was referring to the Cybertronians. But the fact that S'rik tried, and failed, to try and conquer earth was eerily scary.

The plans and timeline of the Cybertronians was something he knew, yes, but he doesn't know what S'rik is planning. He never thought of it before but he realized just how much of a head start he had with Cybertronians and their war. He had a whole eight years to think about how badly everything could go wrong, but with S'rik? He didn't even know they had been the god of a race or planet before now. And it has a history with the humans.

Humans seem to be a magnet for intergalactic wars and trouble. Or the other way around, seeing how humans can, well, be.

Second was that weird vision. That sentence he said, it mentioned Megatron but Jamie felt like those weren't his words. Just thinking about it made him feel older. That landscape, it felt so familiar but so far away. The words and voice he used hadn't been his.

And the only one who would have had memories like and was in his general vicinity from time to time was-

_Starscream_.

Jamie felt himself go rigid. There was only one explanation for that and that was Starscream. In some strange turn of events, he must have somehow gone dumpster diving in Starscream's memories. Not for long, judging by how little he saw. But he felt so much. He felt the fear of the skies as if he were chased, the numb apathy of the battlefield, the claustrophobia of the hallways and the damning remorse and bitter acceptance upon seeing those eyes.

God, just what had  _happened_  last night? Nothing good, if he had managed to get chunks of Starscream's memories into his head. He hoped Starscream didn't have his.

He tensed at the thought. Nobody could know. Nobody could know the carefully hidden acts that Teresa had kept hidden for so long. He refused to let anyone know what he did. Even if there was no technical drawback, everything concerning that had become less shameful over the years and more... intimate. It was quite practically the very essence of Jamie's self-hating traits and pessimistic personality.

Jamie sighed.

What Teresa did was never for herself. Everything Teresa had done was for the people around her. From her childhood friend to the very single father that raised and cared for her in whatever way he could. No amount of shame will ever bring down the bitter sense of hatred that Teresa had took with her to the grave. While the action itself may have been horrid, putrid and unthinkable, Teresa had done it many, many times and each time was never for herself. And that is what made it justified in their eyes. But the older they got, the more guilty Jamie felt of what he had done.

He closed his eyes. The life, body and identity of Jamie Witwicky may have been new, but the soul and knowledge of the horrors Teresa Mortegan had done would forever make him feel old.

He looked over at the old ceiling above him. Cracks and chips were far too noticeable on it, despite being so high up.

He wondered for a minute if he could find a drug dealer, defeat him in a street fight and loot him of his weed or whatever he had. He needed to de-stress.

He looked at his arms and in a second his eyes were blown wide. He had a cast on his right arm, from the elbow to the very knuckles. What the fuck. Was he in a hospital?

He looked around the room. There was only a chair and a couch, one of which he was sitting on. Besides that, the room was barren any decor, minus beige wallpaper and a mint green carpet covering the floor. A window shoved light creeping in from the white blinds. This was no hospital.

Only then did he notice a black marker on the cast.

_"When you wake up, don't panic. It's just me. Head downstairs. Need to talk. -Luciano."_

Luciano? Who the fuck was  _Luciano_?!

He racked his brain over anyone named Luciano only to find nothing.

Sitting here would be counter productive but, still, he didn't know who this Luciano w-

Jamie's whole body started to feel numb. The plush carpet under his bare feet started to fade away into static. His vision blurred for a moment and the walls began to chip away at an alarming rate, revealing a light blue wallpaper. A light blue that, for a moment, flashed a bright red stain behind Jamie's eyes.

Jamie knew exactly what that wallpaper meant, even if his pain ridden mind was fuzzy, and he's hoping that an adrenaline dose would knock him out of this.

This place, this house, he left that place l _ong-_

A loud wheeze came out when the feeling of control finally came back. He didn't know he was holding his breath until it came out in ragged breaths. He tried to run, tried to get whatever he had in his bag, he knows something happened. His legs failed him as he got up and suddenly the floor is smudged against his face.

He still couldn't feel anything and it just made everything worse. Images flashed behind his eyes-

_Boxes in the drive way, small and large-_

_A small hand with a bracelet on it, the beads spelling out "Teresa"-_

_Light coming into the closet, screams and yells falling unto deaf ears, all but hers, all but hers-_

_The crowbar hiding in a bag-_

_Blood on the walls, a shaking form in the corner and glazed eyes peered into her very soul. Blood seeped into the floorboards. He almost heard him speak again._

_" **Fish-eyed brat."**_

_There's something cold that seeps into his veins. Colder than the night in the forest, bag and shovel in hand-_

And then he's not the one looking down anymore.

Jamie's looking up. He's on the floor and there's no feeling in his body. A part of his body feels like there's blood seeping out of it.

A small lamp softly swings back and forth, hidden by a woman, her silhouette hidden by the contrast. Her curly and kinky hair hiding her portrait with only beady, vacant eyes on her face. Burned clothes hide the body but the smell of burned flesh still managed to get into his nose. There's a bloody crowbar in her hand.

She crouched down to his eye level, still holding the crowbar.

And for a moment, Jamie doesn't feel afraid. No. The minute he saw those images, he thought, maybe, this the end? Is today the day when he could finally rest his bloody gloves in the fire?

His answer came in the form of being hauled up by his arm. The arm that S'rik had put ever changing numbers on.

**"Do you remember? That rage we felt? The sudden feeling of purpose in the world?"**  "Teresa" started speaking **. "I want us to remember that. I want to get to the very core of it and use it when the time,"** The hand squeezed around Jamie's arm, **"is just right. We did it for her and she did that for us. Even if it hurt."**

The room started to spin, the wallpaper started to peel off and vertigo hit him like a truck.

It stays like that, for who knows how long, but now, the first thing that Jamie does when he's back in control is fall flat on his ass and hits the cast on his way down. And that fucking hurt, but he couldn't help to notice.

He's hyperventilating like crazy, but with good reason.

_What the fuck. What the fuck was that?!_  It was almost just like back when he saw Teresa in the mirror that morning. The numb body, the semi controlled sight but this.  _This?_!

This is different. What the hell  _was_  that? A vision? He doesn't know. A panic attack? Probably. A weird attempt of getting possessed by a demon? It's not off the table. If aliens and gods existed in this universe _, well fuck_ , demons aren't out of the range of possibilities at this point. Wasn't there a recorded exorcism that happened in Germany back in 19 sixty-whatever?

He felt hysterically tired but a rational part of him kept telling him sleeping won't keep him safe. Not when he's had what could possibly be the most emotionally tiring morning in about 16 years of being concious. His heart beat was too fast either way.

He tried to root himself in his surroundings when he noticed something peculiar.

The mint green carpet is now a dull orange, the walls have gone from beige to dark blue. His breath was coming in puffs of steam.

Jamie almost feared that looking at the blinds would only accelerate his already speeding heartbeat. But what in the world was going on, damn it?! First he wakes up who knows where, probably this "Luciano"'s house, with a cast on his arm no less, then he has a panic attack or schizophrenic episode or hell maybe even a seizure, not like it's not possible- and then the whole room turns negative as if he's in a god damned second dimension! Bloody fucking fantastic!

_Oh, there is too much shit happening all at once._

Carefully picking himself up, he tried to stagger back to the bag. He needed something to hold on to, self-defense or reassurance wise.

To his absolute disappointment, the shotgun was gone along with the small boxes of ammo, the hoodie was, as it turned out, replaced by a dark blue jacket. AK-47 was still there. The two flasks, one silver and the other black, were somehow still there. No inhaler. Shit.

He could use the AK-47 but that would be overkill. Maybe something in the room. Like that chair...

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a glint of something under the bed.

Jamie hesitated but slowly reached down under the bed.

His left hand brushed against something metallic. He nearly ripped it away.

Gently grabbing the object, he pulled the object with his shaky fingers.

His eyes glazed over when he saw it. An old crow bar with faded paint, probably due to continuesly being exposed to liquids. Yet one word could be read. Mortegan.

_No_... it couldn't be, he, she burned it, melted it years ago back in that world.

_So why was it here?!_

Objects don't just travel through dimensions!

His attention was caught to the colour changing carpet beneath him. Was it getting brighter? But  _the room is inverted, so-_

The door slammed open and Jamie nearly gaped at the person who opened it.

It was a two meter being that looked too much like S'rik holding a fire extinguisher. This being didn't have the jagged structure S'rik had, instead having softer armor and the pockets poking out from their back, joints and chest. None of the horns - instead there was a cluster of pockets that formed a halo around them.

They wore an apron that said " _cooking to part the sea for"._

"By fucking Moses, get out of the Dark Ages before you burn the guest room! That carpet is expensive! And leave the couch alone!"

Wait.  _Bartender?!_

Jamie's brain was going a hundred miles an hour as to what the fuck was going on.

The room felt like it was shaking and his head spinning again.

Whatever part of Jamie's hateful mind said it was a good idea to stand up, it needed to be fired.

He fell once more on the soft rug and groaned. The smell of burned fiber was prominent in the room along with smoke. The cold metal in his hands was gone.

"Are you okay?!"

"No..."

* * *

The luminescent light of Nemesis was the first thing that Starscream awoke to. The image he awoke to was half done, a bit distorted, almost as if a chunk of the bigger picture was gone.

Whirring sounds and the soft hum of the main engine could be heard. It's relaxing but he feels as if it wasn't what woke him up.

_"Starscream? Starscream, respond. Are you finally out of stasis?"_

Starscream tried to turn his helm to the voice but his whole frame feels as though it was frozen solid. The pain in his only functioning optic is only a little less than that in the one that's not working. He tried to respond but all that came our was a pained gurgle.

Screw it. Intercoms it was it seems.

'Where am I?' His message was immediately answered.

'At ease, Starscream. You're in the medical wing. You're on Nemesis.' Starscream recognized the identification as one of the few medics on Nemesis.

He was back on Nemesis. The signal got through quick enough to et someone to pick him up from Earth.

"Praised be Primus." He groaned. He's alive and probably only by sheer concentrated luck and the bitter fact that he had to rely on backup. He's bitter, yes, but he stomped the bitterness down when he remembered the very thing that nearly killed him. He's partially sure that if it had been any other type of mech who was unable to fly, their pedes would have been melted off.

'Do not strain yourself. Soundwave and Shockwave have been wanting to speak with you. Especially since you've been in stasis for almost 7 lunar cycles.'

Seven Lunar cycles?! Starscream wanted to yell for an explanation but refrained. This was... this was less than desirable

But something else caught his attention. Soundwave and Shockwave had something to discuss. He wondered for a minute, before remembering that they'd offered him rations in return for information about Signal "Gamma".

He internally scoffed. " _Rations_ " his aft. He should have demanded more if he knew this would happen.

But this discovery was as important as it was unnerving. For the entirety of a vorn the Decepticons had believed that the humans pose no threat. They were small, not exactly sophisticated and constantly held war in between themselves. No particular trait that stood out, minus their adaptable nature and stamina.

But that was a vorn ago when they last checked. Had something changed in the time of a vorn? Were the little fleshies aware they were no longer alone on their planet and started to develop a plan of retaliation?

Starscream had never thought it would happen. If it even was happening-

'Starscream. Respond.' Soundwave commed.

Starscream snapped out of his musings. Soundwave and Shockwave were in the room. The medic had gone somewhere. When did they come in.

'Respond to what?'

'The question. What do you have to report about your... investigation.'

'As if you could call it that.' Starscream retorted.

'Starscream, you will elaborate.' Shockwave sent, a silent threat in the air. Were they that desperate about this project they had going.

'Then let me ask. When was the last time we had analyzed the humans in terms of biology and society?'

Shockwave and Soundwave shared a look of curiosity and confusion.

'A vorn ago. A majority of the countries had been either in war or in ruin.'

'Then believe me when I say we should have checked more often.'

'Elaborate. What happened on the planet?'

Starscream tensed. He knows he has to say this but he just doesn't know how to say it. Well, at least without sending Shockwave into a curious frenzy and getting in on experiments with Scapel.

'I believe that the humans have...evolved. In a way that may just be a threat.'

In less that a klik Shockwave had pulled himself a chair with his... worm-like creation and invited Soundwave, who's no doubt recording. Starscream glared at both of them.

'Comfortable?'

'Yes, now give us the full report. And extra commentary.' Ordered Shockwave. Starscream wanted to retort about being second in comand but this threat was too important to ignore.

'Fine. You better listen well, I'm not repeating.'

'Then start already.'

And so, Starscream began to dump information in an almost prosaic manner. Why? Because he could. Or better yet deserved to relive quite probably the seventh most traumatic experience he's had. Or maybe because he knows that Soundwave and Shockwave can filter information better than anyone on the ship. Either way, he misses no details and sprinkles comments regarding humans evolving into Frenzy-sized comets of unfiltered wrath, their existence in Jupiter's orbit probably being an open secret and how much he has suffered during his current lunar cycle of conciousness.

"-And then signal Gamma just apparently decided " _Frag it!"_  and launched itself directly into my optic! My optic, the only part that has an unbelievable amount of energon minus the spark chamber, for Primus' sake! The fragging thing is a scrapper and we might as well be two planets away from  _Unicron_!"

"Unicron is an old legend. A myth, Starscream." Grit out Shockwave. Starscream took this as a sign that he needed to get to the end of it, already.

"...my apologies, but that's as close of a mental image I can make. And another thing I'd like to add." Seeing as how Shockwave is nearing the end of his patience, he wonders if he'd be the first to make Soundwave lose his. "Signal Gamma is shown to be immune to energon and, I wish I was I was making this up, seemed to resonate with it."

"Elaborate." Commed Soundwave. Hm, rumors of Soundwave being a saint amongst even this lot may be true. But his brutal work assignments stated otherwise. In the rare moments when the Fallen had gone into another fit and couldn't be reasoned with, which was every other klik, Soundwave usually took charge of who did what.

"I thought I saw my life flashing before my optics but it turnes out the human saw it too."

Soundwave and Shockwave made no move. Starscream wonders if that was unnecessary. Nobody can truly read them, EM fields always hidden and Shockwave even had his removed.

A moment passes...

"He called Megatron something that sounded like "enfoiré". Practically an insult." Starscream may have lied there but it was almost the truth. It did insult the leader of the Decepticons. To whom of the leadership was unimportant.

"Starscream, are you sure the human managed to do that?"

"Yes." There was a mute silence between the three. No doubt communication between a private channel.

"Can you give us a description of it?"

"Small in frame, dainty, fuzzy helm and two dots on the left side of the face plates, grey optics but change to purple, if I'm correct. Armed, afthollish-"

"Anything else of importance?"

"If I'm correct, there's a chance it's fast but only for a limited time. Organics need oxigen and that of the sort."

"Noted. Starscream," Replied Soundwave as he and Shockwave were leaving." expect those additional rations to come soon."

And with that they walked out. Starscream huffed.

"Talk about a cold shoulder."

* * *

"Ow!" Exclaimed Jamie, twitching away from the cotton bud with rubbing alcohol.

"Stop fidgeting! I won't be able to clean the wound if you keep doing that!" Bartender- no, Luciano scolded. "It's still hard to believe you can get head trauma like this just from falling. Just what were you doing up there?"

Jamie glared at the cotton bud, avoiding the question.

He actually got hurt for some reason during that- possession session? If one could call it that.

"I dunno, trying not to get possessed?" Jamie retorted. He didn't want to seem rude, especially since he was a guest who was having a gash on his forehead fixed. But the stress of everything just made him tired and irritated. Luciano continuesly cleaning the wound did not help.

Luciano gave him a quizzical look before remembering something.

"Oh. Right, that."

"What do you mean 'that'?"

"It's a long explanation that needs several other explanations which I'm very sure you'd sleep through." Replied Luciano, putting the bud down. The cut was clean but it still needed stitches. Jamie had protested against the notion of getting stitches at first but after a look in the mirror he caved.

Propped on the kitchen booth, he tried to pay attention to anything else in the spacious kitchen. He's never had stitches before, not as Jamie nor as Teresa. Then again could he even call himself Teresa anymore?

"Not true." Said Jamie as he eyed the fridge. Luciano lives suprisingly luxuriously for a bartender. The place looked old but finely rebuilt from what he could gather in the halls when he was led into the kitchen. If high ceilings and spacious rooms could be called luxurious that is. Luciano put the the pincers down and started rummaging through the first aid kit on the counter. "Besides, i only need the basics!"

"Yes you will. The pain killers I have are pretty weak but long lasting." Luciano picked out a pill box and put it on the counter. He then walked to the fridge and pulled out a carton of juice.

"I don't need painkillers. I can handle it."

"Wh-" Luciano stuttered, nearly dropping the carton. "Are you sure? This isn't like poking yourself with a needle. It's pretty painful. Even with painkillers, some of it gets through. Nobody deserves pain- well, nobody who hasn't done anything bad that is."

"But-" Jamie wanted to protest. He had done something like that- he's been doing it all his life. From the time when he was but an eight year old child in France to probably last night. Wait, what day was it? "Actually, nevermind. What day is it? And where are we?"

"Well, we're in one of my safe houses, more particular in North Florida." Luciano picked out a glass and poured some juice into it.

"We're in Florida?!" Nearly yelled Jamie. His hands started shaking. What the hell is it with him blacking out and waking up hell knows where?! "That couldn't be right. Last night you were in Minnesota! I was in Minnesota! And you were there! You were in a gas station-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down." Luciano raided his hands and placed the glass on the counter. "First off, we met in Minnesota a week ago."

Jamie's eyes widened. That- taht couldn't be right.

"What do you mean? That happened last night, right?" Jamie's nerves were burning up in stress.

"No- dude, you showed up in this house two days ago. We met on April the 15th in the bar, right?" Luciano asked, trying to calm Jamie down. Jamie nodded.

"Then you were gone for a week and we met again in Minnesota on the 22nd of April." Luciano explained.

"But it felt like it was just yesterday..." Jamie whispered. His memory was fuzzy, true, but he couldn't have gone on a blackout rampage for a whole week.

"And then you literally flew in here on the 27th. Look, I can show you, give me a minute." Luciano said scrambling off somewhere. There were sounds of rummaging and curses. Luciano ran back in with a laptop and an outstretched cable attached to it. "Uh, mind moving to the living room? The cords not that long."

Jamie got off the counter and softly treaded towards the living area where Luciano was typing away on the laptop that was on the coffee table. He looked over the cord on the floor and let his eyes follow it until it went through an open door. From where he was standing, Jamie could see some books and an old hard drive.

"That's the study, you can check it out while I try to find that tape. In fact, i think Raspberry is in there napping. They've missed breakfast and i made jello yesterday." Luciano called out from the table.

"Wait, just like that? Just, letting me into your study, where anything and everything could be hidden?"

"I've got nothing to hide. Besides, it's important to survey your surroundings."

And with that, Jamie followed the cord until he reached the door. Gently pushing it open, he was met with the sight of bookshelves, computers and large tables. The cord continued on to connect to a heavy-duty computer.

However, Jamie's attention was soon drawn to the desk, but more importantly, a picture on the desk.

For a while now, Jamie's been wondering - who is Luciano, why is he helping him and just how much power did he have. There were a million questions he wanted to ask but didn't. Some could be ersonal and others could be- well...

He could live with his curiosity unsatisfied, or just with the bare minimum. He was helping him and it didn't seem like things would ease up after this. Especially after Starscream.

Jamie walked to the desk and picked up a picture framed in oak. It was a small parchment, yellow from age and time but it's contents confused Jamie.

On it was a drawing in dark ink, a very simple one, of a family. A woman, a man and three children. They all all wore garbs, loose and without detail. The faces were drawn as simply as one could imagine - dots for eyes, simple smiles and just the curves of the noses. They were smiling. Happy.

And behind them was a simple interpretation of Luciano. The "S'rik" form of Luciano, the pocket like fins meshed into feathers and the halo rounded in. His hands were on the shoulder of the mother and the father. There was a large smile on his face, mimicking the smallest child's.

The picture was simple, a child's drawing even. But Jamie knew better. For all he knew, this was probably Luciano's most treasured item in the whole world. Something so simple, yet made with an unimaginable amount of care and for the sake of preserving an important memory.

Jamie wondered, just how old was this picture?

"Hey, I found the tape- oh." Luciano's head peeked through the door and caught him staring at the picture.

Jamie gulped. Now or never.

"Hey, Luciano, wha-"

"Oh! That! That's, what you might call, my "first contact" with Earth." Luciano said, a soft smile appearing on his face as he walked to the desk. "A family of five. Six, if you include me."

"Wait, first contact? You mean-" Jamie started.

"I'm an alien? Yeah." Luciano said as he picked up the picture, wiping away any dust that may have formed with the sleeve of his shirt.

"But- but and that stuff about "souls" and abilities-"

"Hey, the concept of souls is universal! And I wasn't lying about the abilities thing. Just using it as a broad term."

"But, if you're an alien, then that must mean there's others like you, right?" Jamie's mind drifted to S'rik and their tell-tale people. Luciano's smile dropped slowly.

"Well, yes, there are others like me but so far, I'm the only one on this planet."

Jamie gasped.

"You're stranded?"

"Banished is more like it." Luciano said, putting the picture down. "And I guess this picture is proof of it. Y'know, this here drawing is older than some holy crusades."

Jamie looked at the guy with disbelief.

"No way. You can't be that old! I mean yeah you sound like an immortal but like, a hip immortal. Like somebody who got turned into a vampire when War and Peace was finally localized in America." Jamie said.

Luciano gave a hearty laugh.

"I know, it's rather unbelievable. But you know about that ability stuff I talked about?" Jamie nodded. "When I said "those who had different souls" the spectrum I was imagining was intergalactic. And these abilities are pretty mysterious in their own way. But as far as I know, they're all connected to one thing."

"And what's that?" Jamie asked, growing increasingly curious.

"Something that came from the very beginning of the universe. Or rather, what it's made of." Luciano explained. Suddenly, the numb static was back in Jamie's cheeks.

**"Dark matter."**  The voice coming out of his mouth was certainly not his own. Luciano jumped back a few feet, somewhat shocked. Could he tell if Jamie was being possessed? As quickly as it came, the static was gone.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine." Jamie wheezed out. "But anyway, about that tape? And please tell me you have an inhaler for asthma? Preferably maintenance."

"Oh! That!" Luciano immediately dropped the subject. Maybe he knew about it? "Uh, actually I think you came with a whole bunch of them. When you crashed in here but I didn't check those boxes."

"Boxes?"

"Yeah, but let me show you." Luciano said motioning to the door.


End file.
